THE DANGER 


ROBERT   W. 
CHAMBERS 


IBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  CAL  [FORNIA 


LOS  ANGELES 


The 
DANGER  MARK 


Works  of  Robert  W.  Chambers 


Special 

The  Firing  Line 
The  Younger  Set 
The  Fighting  Chance 
Some  Ladies  in  Haste 
The  Tree  of  Heaven 
The    Tracer     of     Lost 

Persons 
A    Young    Man    in    a 

Hurry 
Lorraine 

Maids  of  Paradise 
Ashes  of  Empire 
The  Red  Republic 
Outsiders 

In  th« 


Messenger 

lob 

The  Reckoning 
The  Maid -at- Arms 
Cardigan 

The  Haunts  of  Men 
The  Mystery  of  Choice 
The  Cambric  Mask 
A  Maker  of  Moons 
The  King  in  Yellow 
In  Search   of    the  Un 
known 

The  Conspirators 
A    King    and    a    Few 

Dukes 
Quarter 


For  Children 


Garden- Land 

Forest-Land 

River-Land 


Mountain-Land 

Orchard-Land 

Outdoorland 


"Please  do  tell  me  somebody  is  scandalised." 

[Page  156.] 


The 

DANGER  MARK 


BY 


ROBERT    W.   CHAMBERS 

AUTHOR  OF 

'/THE  FIGHTING  CHANCE,"  "THE  YOUNGER  SET," 
"THE  FIRING  LINE,"  ETC. 


WITH    ILLUSTRATIONS    BY 

A.  B.  WENZELL 


D.     APPLETON     AND     COMPANY 

NEW    YORK    AND    LONDON 

1909 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
ROBERT  W.   CHAMBERS 


COPYRIGHT,  1909,  BY 
THE  CURTIS  PUBLISHING  COMPANY 


Published  September,  1909 


\J 


TO 

MY   FRIEND 
JOHN   CARRINGTON   YATES 


2134983 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PA OK 

I. — THE  SEAGRAVES 1 

II.— IN  TRUST 26 

III.— THE  THRESHOLD 52 

IV. — THE  YEAR  OF  DISCRETION 87 

V.—  ROYA-NEH 117 

VI. — ADRIFT 138 

VII.— TOGETHER 162 

VIII. — AN  AFTERGLOW 190 

IX.— CONFESSION 210 

X.-DusK 225 

XI.— FETE  GALANTE 241 

XII. — THE  LOVE  OF  THE  GODS 266 

XIII. — AMBITIONS  AND  LETTERS 292 

XIV.— THE  PROPHETS 312 

XV.— DYSART 332 

XVI. — THROUGH  THE  WOODS 351 

XVII.— THE  DANGER  MARK 373 

XVIII.— BON  CHIEN 391 

vii 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XIX. — QUESTIONS  AND  ANSWERS    .... 

XX. — IN  SEARCH  OF  HERSELF 425 

XXL— THE  GOLDEN  HOURS 443 

XXII. — CLOUDY  MOUNTAIN 457 

XXIII.— SINE  DIE 473 

XXIV.— THE  PROLOGUE  ENDS    .  492 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


'"Please  do  tell  me  somebody  is  scandalized'"  Frontispiece 

"'Can  I  have  what  other  women  have — silk  underwear  and 

stockings?'" 44 

"'Duane!'  she  gasped — 'why  did  you?'"         ...       84 
"Oh,  the  horror  of  it! — the  shame,  the  agonized  surprise"     110 

' '  This  is  one  of  those  rare  occasions  .  .  .  where  goodness 

is  ...  amply  rewarded'" 122 

'"I  want  to  confess!     I've  been  horribly  depraved  for  a 

week!'" 196 

"She  dropped  him  a  very  low,  very  slow,  very  marvellous 

courtesy" 244 

"Crumpled  up  like  a  white  flower  in  his  arms"         .        .     386 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


CHAPTER    I 


ALL  day  Sunday  they  had  raised  the  devil  from 
attic  to  cellar;  Mrs.  Farren  was  in  tears,  Howker  des 
perate.  Not  one  out  of  the  fifteen  servants  considered 
necessary  to  embellish  the  Seagrave  establishment 
could  do  anything  with  them  after  Kathleen  Severn's 
sudden  departure  the  week  before. 

When  the  telegram  announcing  her  mother's  sud 
den  illness  summoned  young  Mrs.  Severn  to  Staten 
Island,  every  servant  in  the  household  understood  that 
serious  trouble  was  impending  for  them. 

Day  by  day  the  children  became  more  unruly ;  Sun 
day  they  were  demons ;  and  Mrs.  Farren  shuddered  to 
think  what  Monday  might  bring  forth. 

The  day  began  ominously  at  breakfast  with  gen 
eral  target  practice,  ammunition  consisting  of  projec 
tiles  pinched  from  the  interior  of  hot  muffins.  Later, 
when  Mrs.  Farren  ventured  into  the  schoolroom,  she 
found  Scott  Seagrave  drawing  injurious  pictures  of 
Howker  on  the  black-board,  and  Geraldine  sorting 
lumps  of  sugar  from  the  bowl  on  the  breakfast-tray, 
which  had  not  yet  been  removed. 

"  Dearies,"   she  began,    "  it   is   after   nine  o'clock 

and " 

1 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


"  No  school  to-day,  Mrs.  Farren,"  interrupted 
Scott  cheerfully ;  "  we  haven't  anything  to  do  till  Kath 
leen  comes  back,  and  you  know  it  perfectly  well !  " 

"Yes,  you  have,  dearie;  Mrs.  Severn  has  just  sent 
you  this  list  of  lessons."  She  held  out  a  black-edged 
envelope. 

Geraldine,  who  had  been  leisurely  occupied  in  drop 
ping  cologne  on  a  lump  of  sugar,  thrust  the  lump 
into  her  pink  mouth  and  turned  sharply  on  Mrs. 
Farren. 

"What  list?"  she  demanded.  "Give  that  letter 
to  me.  .  .  .  Oh,  Scott !  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any 
thing  half  so  mean?  Kathleen's  written  out  about  a 
thousand  questions  in  geography  for  us !  " 

"  I  can't  stand  that  sort  of  interference !  "  shouted 
Scott,  dropping  his  chalk  and  aiming  a  kick  at  the  big 
papier-mache  globe.  "  I'm  sorry  Kathleen's  mother  is 
probably  going  to  die,  but  I've  had  enough  geography, 
too." 

"  Mrs.  Severn's  mother  died  on  Friday,"  said  the 
housekeeper  solemnly. 

The  children  paused,  serious  for  a  moment  in  the 
presence  of  the  incomprehensible. 

"  We're  sorry,"  said  Geraldine  slowly.  ..."  When 
is  Kathleen  coming  back  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  to-night,  dearie " 

Scott  impatiently  detached  the  schoolroom  globe 
from  its  brass  axis :  "  I'm  sorry,  too,"  he  said ;  "  but 
I'm  tired  of  lessons.  Now,  Mrs.  Farren,  watch  me! 
I'm  going  to  kick  a  goal  from  the  field.  Here,  you 
hold  it,  Geraldine;  Mrs.  Farren,  you  had  better  try 
to  block  it  and  cheer  for  Yale ! " 

Geraldine  seized  the  globe,  threw  herself  flat  on  the 
floor,  and,  head  on  one  side,  wriggled,  carefully  con- 


sidering  the  angle.  Then,  tipping  the  globe,  she  ad 
justed  it  daintily  for  her  brother  to  kick. 

"  A  little  higher,  please ;  look  out  there,  Mrs.  Far- 
ren ! "  said  Scott  calmly ;  "  Harvard  is  going  to  score 
this  time.  Now,  Geraldine !  " 

Thump!  came  the  kick,  but  Mrs.  Farren  had  fled, 
and  the  big  globe  struck  the  nursery  door  and  bounced 
back  minus  half  of  South  America. 

For  ten  minutes  the  upper  floors  echoed  with  the 
racket.  Geraldine  fiercely  disputed  her  brother's  right 
to  kick  every  time;  then,  as  usual,  when  she  got  what 
she  wanted,  gave  up  to  Scott  and  let  him  monopolise 
the  kicking  until,  satiated,  he  went  back  to  the  black 
board,  having  obliterated  several  continents  from  the 
face  of  the  globe. 

"  You  might  at  least  be  polite  enough  to  hold  it  for 
me  to  kick,"  said  his  sister.  "  What  a  pig  you  are, 
Scott." 

"  Don't  bother  me ;  I'm  drawing  Howker.  You 
can't  kick  straight,  anyway " 

"Yes,  I  can!" 

Scott,  intent  on  his  drawing,  muttered: 

"  I  wish  there  was  another  boy  in  this  house ;  I 
might  have  a  little  fun  to-day  if  there  was  anybody  to 
play  with." 

There  ensued  a  silence;  then  he  heard  his  sister's 
light  little  feet  flying  along  the  hallway  toward  their 
bedrooms,  but  went  on  calmly  with  his  drawing,  using 
some  effective  coloured  crayon  on  Howker's  nose. 
Presently  he  became  conscious  that  Geraldine  had  re- 
entered  the  room. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to-day  ?  "  he  asked, 
preoccupied. 

Geraldine,  dressed  in  her  brother's  clothes,  was 
3 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


kneeling  on  one  knee  and  hastily  strapping  on  a  single 
roller-skate. 

"  I'll  show  you,"  she  said,  rising  and  shaking  the 
dark  curls  out  of  her  eyes.  "  Come  on,  Scott,  I'm  go 
ing  to  misbehave  all  day.  Look  at  me!  I've  brought 
you  the  boy  you  wanted  to  play  with." 

Her  brother  turned,  considered  her  with  patronis 
ing  toleration,  then  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  You  look  like  one,  but  you're  no  good,"  he  said. 

"  I  can  be  just  as  bad  as  any  boy!"  she  insisted. 
"  I'll  do  whatever  you  do ;  I'll  do  worse,  I  tell  you. 
Dare  me  to  do  something !  " 

"  You  don't  dare  skate  backward  into  the  red 
drawing-room!  There's  too  much  bric-a-brac." 

She  turned  like  a  flash  and  was  off,  hopping  and 
clattering  down-stairs  on  her  single  skate,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  she  whirled  into  the  red  drawing-room 
backward  and  upset  a  Sang-de-boeuf  jar,  reducing  the 
maid  to  horrified  tears  and  the  jar  to  powder. 

Howker  strove  in  vain  to  defend  his  dining-room 
when  Scott  appeared  on  one  skate;  but  the  breakfast- 
room  and  pantry  were  forcibly  turned  into  rinks;  the 
twins  swept  through  the  halls,  met  and  defeated  their 
nurses,  Margaret  and  Betty,  tumbled  down  into  the 
lower  regions,  from  there  descended  to  the  basement, 
and  whizzed  cheerily  through  the  kitchen,  waving  two 
skateless  legs. 

There  Mrs.  Bramton  attempted  to  buy  them  off 
with  tribute  in  the  shape  of  cup-cakes. 

"  Sure,  darlints,  they  do  be  starvin'  yez,"  purred 
Mrs.  Bramton.  "Don't  I  know  the  likes  o'  them? 
Now  roon  away  quietlike  an'  ladylike " 

"  Like  a  hen,"  retorted  Scott.  "  I  want  some  pre 
serves." 

4 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


"  That's  all  very  well,"  said  Geraldine  with  her 
mouth  full,  "  but  we  expected  to  skate  about  the 
kitchen  and  watch  you  make  pastry.  Kindly  begin, 
Mrs.  Bramton." 

"  I'd  like  to  see  what's  inside  of  that  chicken  over 
there,"  said  Scott.  "  And  I  want  you  to  give  me  some 
raisins,  Mrs.  Bramton " 

"  I'm  dying  for  a  glass  of  milk,"  added  Geraldine. 
"  Get  me  some  dough,  somebody ;  I'm  going  to  bake 
something." 

Scott,  who,  devoured  by  curiosity,  had  been  sniffing 
around  the  spice  cupboard,  sneezed  violently;  a  Swed 
ish  kitchen-maid  threw  her  apron  over  her  head,  weak 
with  laughter. 

"  If  you're  laughing  at  me,  I'll  fix  you,  Olga ! " 
shouted  Scott  in  a  rage ;  and  the  air  was  suddenly  filled 
with  balls  of  dough.  Mrs.  Bramton  fled  before  the 
storm ;  a  well-directed  volley  drove  the  maids  to  cover 
and  stampeded  the  two  cats. 

"  Take  whatever  is  good  to  eat,  Geraldine.  Hur 
rah  !  The  town  surrenders !  Loot  it !  No  quarter !  " 
shouted  Scott.  However,  when  Howker  arrived  they 
retired  hastily  with  pockets  full  of  cinnamon  sticks, 
olives,  prunes,  and  dried  currants,  climbing  trium 
phantly  to  the  library  above,  where  they  curled  up  on  a 
leather  divan,  under  the  portrait  of  their  mother,  to 
divide  the  spoils. 

"  Am  I  bad  enough  to  suit  you  ?  "  inquired  Ger 
aldine  with  pardonable  pride. 

"  Pooh !  That's  nothing.  If  I  had  another  boy 
here  I'd— I'd " 

"  Well,  what  ?  "  demanded  Geraldine,  flushing.  "  I 
tell  you  I  can  misbehave  as  well  as  any  boy.  Dare  me  to 
do  anything  and  you'll  see !  I  dare  you  to  dare  me !  " 

5 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


Scott  began :  "  Oh,  it's  all  very  easy  for  a  girl  to 
talk " 

"  I  don't  talk ;  I  do  it !  And  you  know  perfectly 
well  I  do!" 

"  You're  a  girl,  after  all,  even  if  you  have  got  on 
my  clothes " 

"  Didn't  I  throw  as  much  dough  at  Olga  and  Mrs. 
Bramton  as  you  did?  " 

"  You  didn't  hit  anybody." 

"  I  did !     I  saw  a  soft,  horrid  lump  stick  to  Olga !  " 

"  Pooh !     You  can't  throw  straight " 

"  That's  a  lie !  "  said  Geraldine  excitedly. 

Scott  bristled: 

"  If  you  say  that  again " 

"  All  right ;  go  and  get  the  boxing-gloves.  You 
did  tell  a  lie,  Scott,  because  I  did  hit  Olga !  " 

Scott  hastily  unstrapped  his  lone  skate,  cast  it  clat 
tering  from  him,  and  sped  up-stairs.  When  he  re 
turned  he  hurled  a  pair  of  boxing-gloves  at  Geraldine, 
who  put  them  on,  laced  them,  trembling  with  wrath, 
and  flew  at  her  brother  as  soon  as  his  own  gloves  were 
fastened. 

They  went  about  their  business  like  lightning, 
swinging,  blocking,  countering.  Twice  she  gave  him  in 
viting  openings  and  then  punished  him  savagely  before 
he  could  get  away;  then  he  attempted  in-fighting,  but 
her  legs  were  too  nimble.  And  after  a  while  he  lost 
his  head  and  came  at  her  using  sheer  weight,  which 
set  her  beside  herself  with  fury. 

Teeth  clenched,  crimson-cheeked,  she  side-stepped, 
feinted,  and  whipped  in  an  upper-cut.  Then,  darting 
in,  she  drove  home  her  left  with  all  her  might ;  and  Scott 
went  down  with  an  unmistakable  thud. 

"  One  —  two  —  three  —  four,"  she  counted,  "  and 
6 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


you  did  tell  a  lie,  didn't  you?  Five — six —  Oh,  Scott! 
I've  made  your  nose  bleed  horridly !  Does  it  hurt, 
dea  r  ?  Seven — ei  gh  t ! 

The  boy,  still  confused,  rose  and  instinctively  as 
sumed  the  classic  attitude  of  self-defence ;  but  his  sis 
ter  threw  down  her  gloves  and  offered  him  her  hand 
kerchief,  saying:  "You've  just  got  to  be  fair  to  me 
now,  Scott.  Tell  me  that  I  throw  straight  and  that  I 
did  hit  Olga !  " 

He  hesitated ;  wiped  his  nose : 

"  I  take  it  back.  You  can  throw  straight.  Ginger ! 
What  a  crack  you  just  gave  me!  " 

She  was  all  compunction  and  honey  now,  hovering 
around  him  where  he  stood  stanching  honourable 
wounds.  After  a  while  he  laughed.  "Thunder!"  he 
exclaimed  ruefully ;  "  my  nose  seems  to  be  growing  for 
fair.  You're  all  right,  Geraldine." 

"  Here's  my  last  cup-cake,  if  you  like,"  said  his  sis 
ter;  radiant. 

Embarrassed  a  little  by  defeat,  but  nursing  no  bit 
terness,  he  sat  down  on  the  leather  divan  again  and  per 
mitted  his  sister  to  feed  him  and  tell  him  that  his 
disaster  was  only  an  accident.  He  tried  to  think  so, 
too,  but  serious  doubts  persisted  in  his  mind.  There 
had  been  a  clean-cut  finish  to  that  swing  and  jab  which 
disturbed  his  boy's  conceit. 

"We'll  try  "it  again,"  he  began.  "I'm  all  right 
now,  if  you  like 

"  Oh,  Scott,  I  don't  want  to !  " 

"  Well,  we  ought  to  know  which  of  us  really  can 
lick  the  other 

"  Why,  of  course,  you  can  lick  me  every  time.  Be 
sides,  I  wouldn't  want  to  be  able  to  lick  you — except 
when  I'm  very,  very  angry.  And  I  ought  not  to  be- 

7 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


come  angry  the  way  I  do.  Kathleen  tries  so  hard  to 
make  me  stop  and  reflect  before  I  do  things,  but  I  can't 
seem  to  learn.  .  .  .  Does  your  nose  hurt  ?  " 

"  Not  in  the  least,"  said  her  brother,  reddening  and 
changing  the  subject.  "  I  say,  it  looks  as  though  it 
were  going  to  stop  raining." 

He  went  to  the  window;  the  big  Seagrave  house 
with  its  mansard  roof,  set  in  the  centre  of  an  entire  city 
block,  bounded  by  Madison  and  Fifth  Avenues  and  by 
Ninety-fifth  and  Ninety-sixth  Streets,  looked  out  from 
its  four  red  brick  fa9ades  onto  strips  of  lawn  and 
shrubbery,  now  all  green  and  golden  with  new  grass 
and  early  buds. 

It  was  topsy-turvy,  March-hare  weather,  which 
perhaps  accounted  for  the  early  April  dementia  that 
possessed  the  children  at  recurring  intervals,  and  which 
nothing  ever  checked  except  the  ultimate  slumber  of 
infantile  exhaustion. 

If  anybody  in  the  house  possessed  authority  to  pun 
ish  them,  nobody  exercised  it.  Servants  grown  gray  in 
the  Seagrave  service  endured  much,  partly  for  the  chil 
dren's  sakes,  partly  in  memory  of  the  past;  but  the 
newer  and  younger  domestics  had  less  interest  in  the 
past  glories  and  traditions  of  an  old  New  York  family 
which,  except  for  two  little  children,  ten  years  old,  had 
perished  utterly  from  the  face  of  the  land. 

The  entire  domestic  regime  was  a  makeshift — had 
been  almost  from  the  beginning.  Mrs.  Farren,  the 
housekeeper,  understood  it;  Howker,  the  butler,  knew 
it;  Lacy  knew  it — he  who  had  served  forty  years  as 
coachman  in  the  Seagrave  family. 

For  in  all  the  world  there  remained  not  one  living 
soul  who  through  ties  of  kinship  was  authorised  to 
properly  control  these  children.  Nor  could  they  them- 

8 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


selves  even  remember  parental  authority;  and  only  a 
shadowy  recollection  of  their  grandfather's  lax  dis 
cipline  survived,  becoming  gradually,  as  time  passed, 
nothing  more  personal  to  them  than  a  pleasant  legend 
kept  alive  and  nourished  in  the  carefully  guarded 
stories  told  them  by  Kathleen  Severn  and  by  Anthony 
Seagrave's  old  servants. 

Yet,  in  the  land,  and  in  his  own  city  of  Manhattan, 
their  grandfather  had  been  a  very  grand  man,  with  his 
large  fortune,  now  doubled  and  still  increasing ;  he  had 
been  a  very  distinguished  man  in  the  world  of  fashion 
with  his  cultivated  taste  in  art  and  wine  and  letters 
and  horses ;  he  had  been  a  very  important  man,  too,  in 
the  civic,  social,  and  political  construction  of  New 
York  town,  in  the  quaint  days  when  the  sexton  of  Old 
Trinity  furnished  fashionable  hostesses  with  data  con 
cerning  the  availability  of  social  aspirants.  He  had 
been  a  courtly  and  fascinating  man,  too.  He  had  died 
a  drunkard. 

Now  his  grandchildren  were  fast  forgetting  him. 
The  town  had  long  since  forgotten  him.  Only  an  old 
friend  or  two  and  his  old  servants  remembered  what  he 
had  been,  his  virtues,  his  magnificence,  his  kindness, 
and  his  weakness. 

But  if  the  Seagrave  twins  possessed  neither  father 
nor  mother  to  exercise  tender  temporal  and  spiritual 
suzerainty  in  the  nursery,  and  if  no  memory  of  their 
grandfather's  adoring  authority  remained,  the  last  will 
and  testament  of  Anthony  Seagrave  had  provided  a 
marvellous,  man-created  substitute  for  the  dead:  a 
vast,  shadowy  thing  which  ruled  their  lives  with  pas 
sionless  precision ;  which  ordered  their  waking  hours 
even  to  the  minutest  particulars ;  which  assumed  ma 
chine-like  charge  of  their  persons,  their  personal  ex- 

9 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


penses,  their  bringing-up,  their  schooling,  the  items 
of  their  daily  routine. 

This  colossal  automaton,  almost  terrifyingly  im 
personal,  loomed  always  above  them,  throwing  its 
powerful  and  gigantic  shadow  across  their  lives.  As 
they  grew  old  enough  to  understand,  it  became  to  them 
the  embodiment  of  occult  and  unpleasant  authority 
which  controlled  their  coming  and  going;  which  chose 
for  them  their  personal  but  not  their  legal  guardian, 
Kathleen  Severn ;  which  fixed  upon  the  number  of  ser 
vants  necessary  for  the  house  that  Anthony  Seagrave 
directed  should  be  maintained  for  his  grandchildren ; 
which  decided  what  kind  of  expenses,  what  sort  of 
clothing,  what  recreations,  what  accomplishments,  what 
studies,  what  religion  they  should  be  provided  with. 

And  the  name  of  this  enormous  man-contrived  ma 
chine  which  took  the  place  of  father  and  mother  was 
the  Half  Moon  Trust  Company,  acting  as  trustee, 
guardian,  and  executor  for  two  little  children,  who 
neither  understood  why  they  were  sometimes  very  un 
ruly  or  that  they  would  one  day  be  very,  very  rich. 

As  for  their  outbreaks,  an  intense  sense  of  loneli 
ness  for  which  they  were  unable  to  account  was  always 
followed  by  a  period  of  restlessness  sure  to  culminate 
in  violent  misbehaviour. 

Such  an  outbreak  had  been  long  impending.  So 
when  a  telegram  called  away  their  personal  guardian, 
Kathleen  Severn,  the  children  broke  loose  with  the  deli 
cate  fury  of  the  April  tempest  outside,  which  all  the 
morning  had  been  blotting  the  western  windows  with 
gusts  of  fragrant  rain. 

The  storm  was  passing  now;  light  volleys  of  rain 
still  arrived  at  intervals,  slackening  as  the  spring  sun 
broke  out,  gilding  naked  branches  and  bare  brown 

10 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


earth,  touching  swelling  buds  and  the  frail  points  of 
tulips  which  pricked  the  soaked  loam  in  close-set 
thickets. 

From  the  library  bay  windows  where  they  stood, 
the  children  noticed  dandelions  in  the  grass  and  snow 
drops  under  the  trees  and  recognised  the  green  signals 
of  daffodil  and  narcissus. 

Already  crocuses,  mauve,  white,  and  yellow,  glim 
mered  along  a  dripping  privet  hedge  which  crowned 
the  brick  and  granite  wall  bounding  the  domain  of 
Seagrave.  East,  through  the  trees,  they  could  see  the 
roofs  of  electric  cars  speeding  up  and  down  Madison 
Avenue,  and  the  houses  facing  that  avenue.  North  and 
south  were  quiet  streets ;  westward  Fifth  Avenue  ran, 
a  sheet  of  wet,  golden  asphalt  glittering  under  the 
spring  sun,  and  beyond  it,  above  the  high  retaining 
wall,  budding  trees  stood  out  against  the  sky,  and  the 
waters  of  the  Park  reservoirs  sparkled  behind. 

"  I  am  glad  it's  spring,  anyway,"  said  Geraldine 
listlessly. 

"What's  the  good  of  it?"  asked  Scott.  "We'll 
have  to  take  all  our  exercise  with  Kathleen  just  the 
same,  and  watch  other  children  having  good  times. 
What's  the  use  of  spring?" 

"  Spring  is  tiresome,"  admitted  Geraldine  thought 
fully. 

"  So  is  winter.  I  think  either  would  be  all  right 
if  they'd  only  let  me  have  a  few  friends.  There  are 
plenty  of  boys  I'd  like  to  have  some  fun  with  if  they'd 
let  me." 

"  I  wonder,"  mused  Geraldine,  "  if  there  is  any 
thing  the  matter  with  us,  Scott?  " 

"Why?" 

"  Oh — I  don't  know.  People  stare  at  us  so — nurses 
11 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


always  watch  us  and  begin  to  whisper  as  soon  as  we 
come  along.  Do  you  know  what  a  boy  said  to  me  once 
when  I  skated  very  far  ahead  of  Kathleen  ?  " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  inquired  Scott,  flattening  his 
nose  against  the  window-pane  to  see  whether  it  still 
hurt  him. 

"  He  asked  me  if  I  were  too  rich  and  proud  to  play 
with  other  children.  I  was  so  surprised;  and  I  said 
that  we  were  not  rich  at  all,  and  that  I  never  had  had 
any  money,  and  that  I  was  not  a  bit  proud,  and  would 
love  to  stay  and  play  with  him  if  Kathleen  permitted 
me." 

"  Did  Kathleen  let  you?    Of  course  she  didn't." 

"  I  told  her  what  the  boy  said  and  I  showed  her  the 
boy,  but  she  wouldn't  let  me  stay  and  play." 

"  Kathleen's  a  pig." 

"  No,  she  isn't,  poor  dear.  They  make  her  act  that 
way — Mr.  Tappan  makes  her.  Our  grandfather  didn't 
want  us  to  have  friends." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Scott  impatiently,  "  when 
I'm  old  enough,  I'll  have  other  boys  to  play  with 
whether  Kathleen  and — and  that  Thing — likes  it  or 
not." 

The  Thing  was  the  Half  Moon  Trust  Company. 

Geraldine  glanced  back  at  the  portrait  over  the 
divan: 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  ventured,  "  that  I  believe 
mother  would  have  let  us  have  fun." 

"  I'll  bet  father  would,  too,"  said  Scott.  "  Some 
times  I  feel  like  kicking  over  everything  in  the  house." 

"  So  do  I  and  I  generally  do  it,"  observed  Geral 
dine,  lifting  a  slim,  graceful  leg  and  sending  a  sofa- 
cushion  flying. 

When  they  had  kicked  all  the  cushions  from  the 
12 


THE   SEAGEAVES 


sofas  and  divans,  Scott  suggested  that  they  go  out  and 
help  Schmitt,  the  gardener,  who,  at  that  moment,  came 
into  view  on  the  lawn,  followed  by  Olsen  wheeling  a 
barrowful  of  seedlings  in  wooden  trays. 

So  the  children  descended  to  the  main  hall  and 
marched  through  it,  defying  Lang,  the  second  man, 
refusing  hats  and  overshoes;  and  presently  were  dig 
ging  blissfully  in  a  flower-bed  under  the  delighted  di 
rections  of  Schmitt. 

"What  are  these  things,  anyway?"  demanded 
Scott,  ramming  down  the  moist  earth  around  a  fragile 
rootlet  from  which  trailed  a  green  leaf  or  two. 

"  Dot  vas  a  verpena,  sir,"  explained  the  old  gar 
dener.  "  Now  you  shall  vatch  him  grow." 

The  boy  remained  squatting  for  several  minutes, 
staring  hard  at  the  seedling. 

"  I  can't  see  it  grow,"  he  said  to  his  sister,  "  and 
I'm  not  going  to  sit  here  all  day  waiting.  Come  on !  " 
And  he  gave  her  a  fraternal  slap. 

Geraldine  wiped  her  hands  on  her  knickerbockers 
and  started  after  him ;  and  away  they  raced  around  the 
house,  past  the  fountains,  under  trees  by  the  coach 
house,  across  paths  and  lawns  and  flower-beds,  tear 
ing  about  like  a  pair  of  demented  kittens.  They 
frisked,  climbed  trees,  chased  each  other,  wrestled, 
clutched,  tumbled,  got  mad,  made  up,  and  finally,  re 
moving  shoes  and  stockings,  began  a  game  of  leap 
frog. 

Horror-stricken  nurses  arrived  bearing  dry  towels 
and  footgear,  and  were  received  with  fury  and  a  volley 
of  last  year's  horse-chestnuts.  And  when  the  enemy  had 
been  handsomely  repulsed,  the  children  started  on  a 
tour  of  exploration,  picking  their  way  with  tender, 
naked  feet  to  the  northern  hedge. 

13 


Here  Geraldine  mounted  on  Scott's  shoulders  and 
drew  herself  up  to  the  iron  railing  which  ran  along  the 
top  of  the  granite-capped  wall  between  hedge  and 
street;  and  Scott  followed  her,  both  pockets  stuffed 
with  chestnuts  which  he  had  prudently  gathered  in  the 
shrubbery. 

In  the  street  below  there  were  few  passers-by.  Each 
individual  wayfarer,  however,  received  careful  atten 
tion,  Scott  having  divided  the  chestnuts,  and  the  aim 
of  both  children  being  excellent. 

They  had  been  awaiting  a  new  victim  for  some  time, 
when  suddenly  Geraldine  pinched  her  brother  with 
eager  satisfaction : 

"  Oh,  Scott !  there  comes  that  boy  I  told  you 
about!" 

"What  boy?" 

"  The  one  who  asked  me  if  I  was  too  rich  and  proud 
to  play  with  him.  And  that  must  be  his  sister;  they 
look  alike." 

"  All  right,"  said  Scott ;  "  we'll  give  them  a  volley. 
You  take  the  nurse  and  I'll  fix  the  boy.  .  .  .  Ready. 
.  .  .  Fire!" 

The  ambuscade  was  perfectly  successful;  the  nurse 
halted  and  looked  up,  expressing  herself  definitely  upon 
the  manners  and  customs  of  the  twins ;  the  boy,  who  ap 
peared  to  be  amazingly  agile,  seized  a  swinging  wis 
taria  vine,  clambered  up  the  wall,  and,  clinging  to  the 
outside  of  the  iron  railing,  informed  Scott  that  h« 
would  punch  his  head  when  a  pleasing  opportunity  pre 
sented  itself. 

"  All  right,"  retorted  Scott ;  "  come  in  and  do  it 
now." 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you  to  say  when  you 
know  I  can't  climb  over  this  railing !  " 

14 


THE   SE  AGRAFES 


"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  said  Scott,  thrilled  at 
the  chance  of  another  boy  on  the  grounds  even  if 
he  had  to  fight  him ;  "  I'll  tell  you  what !  "  sinking 
his  voice  to  an  eager  whisper ;  "  You  run  away  from 
your  nurse  as  soon  as  you  get  into  the  Park  and 
I'll  be  at  the  front  door  and  I'll  let  you  in.  Will 
you?" 

"  Oh,  please !  "  whispered  Geraldine ;  "  and  bring 
your  sister,  too  !  " 

The  boy  stared  at  her  knickerbockers.  "  Do  you 
want  to  fight  my  sister  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  ?  Oh,  no,  no,  no.  You  can  fight  Scott  if  you 
like,  and  your  sister  and  I  will  have  such  fun  watching 
you.  Will  you?  " 

His  nurse  was  calling  him  to  descend,  in  tones  agi 
tated  and  peremptory;  the  boy  hesitated,  scowled  at 
Scott,  looked  uncertainly  at  Geraldine,  then  shot  a 
hasty  and  hostile  glance  at  the  interior  of  the  mysteri 
ous  Seagrave  estate.  Curiosity  overcame  him;  also, 
perhaps,  a  natural  desire  for  battle. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  to  Scott,  "  I'll  come  back  and 
punch  your  head  for  you." 

And  very  deftly,  clinging  like  a  squirrel  to  the 
pendant  wistaria,  he  let  himself  down  into  the  street 
again. 

The  Seagrave  twins,  intensely  excited,  watched 
them  as  far  as  Fifth  Avenue,  then  rapidly  drawing  on 
their  shoes  and  stockings,  scrambled  down  to  the 
shrubbery  and  raced  for  the  house.  Through  it  they 
passed  like  a  double  whirlwind ;  feeble  and  perfunctory 
resistance  was  offered  by  their  nurses. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way !  "  said  Geraldine  fiercely ;  "  do 
you  think  I'm  going  to  miss  the  first  chance  for  some 
fun  that  I've  ever  had  in  all  my  life?  " 

15 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


At  the  same  moment,  through  the  glass-sheeted 
grill  Scott  discovered  two  small  figures  dashing  up  the 
drive  to  the  porte-cochere.  And  he  turned  on  Lang 
like  a  wild  cat. 

Lang,  the  man  at  the  door,  was  disposed  to  defend 
his  post;  Scott  prepared  to  fly  at  him,  but  his  sister 
intervened : 

"  Oh,  Lang,"  she  pleaded,  jumping  up  and  down 
in  an  agony  of  apprehension,  "  please,  please,  let  them 
in !  We've  never  had  any  friends."  She  caught  his 
arm  piteously;  he  looked  fearfully  embarrassed,  for 
the  Seagrave  livery  was  still  new  to  him;  nor,  during 
his  brief  service,  had  he  fully  digested  the  significance 
of  the  policy  which  so  rigidly  guarded  these  little  chil 
dren  lest  rumour  from  without  apprise  them  of  their 
financial  future  and  the  contaminating  realisation  un 
dermine  their  simplicity. 

As  he  stood,  undecided,  Geraldine  suddenly  jerked 
his  hand  from  the  bronze  knob  and  Scott  flung  open 
the  door. 

"  Come  on !  Quick !  "  he  cried ;  and  the  next  mo 
ment  four  small  pairs  of  feet  were  flying  through  the 
hall,  echoing  lightly  across  the  terrace,  then  skimming 
the  lawn  to  the  sheltering  shrubbery  beyond. 

"  The  thing  to  do,"  panted  Scott,  "  is  to  keep  out 
of  sight."  He  seized  his  guests  by  the  arms  and  drew 
them  behind  the  rhododendrons.  "  Now,"  he  said, 
"  what's  your  name  ?  You,  I  mean !  " 

"  Duane  Mallett,"  replied  the  boy,  breathless. 
"  That's  my  sister,  Nai'da.  Let's  wait  a  moment  be 
fore  we  begin  to  fight;  Nai'da  and  I  had  to  run  like 
fury  to  get  away  from  our  nurse." 

Nai'da  was  examining  Geraldine  with  an  interest 
almost  respectful. 

16 


THE   SEAGEAVES 


"  I  wish  they'd  let  me  dress  like  a  boy,"  she  said. 
"It's  fun,  isn't  it?" 

"  Yes.  They  don't  let  me  do  it ;  I  just  did  it,"  re 
plied  Geraldine.  "  I'll  get  you  a  suit  of  Scott's  clothes, 
if  you  like.  I  can  get  the  boxing-gloves  at  the  same 
time.  Shall  I,  Scott?" 

"  Go  ahead,"  said  Scott ;  "  we  can  pretend  there 
are  four  boys  here."  And,  to  Duane,  as  Geraldine  sped 
cautiously  away  on  her  errand :  "  That's  a  thing  I 
never  did  before." 

"What  thing?" 

"  Play  with  three  boys  all  by  myself.  Kathleen — 
who  is  Mrs.  Severn,  our  guardian — is  always  with  us 
when  we  are  permitted  to  speak  to  other  boys  and 
girls." 

"  That's  babyish,"  remarked  Duane  in  frank  dis 
gust.  "  You  are  a  mollycoddle." 

The  deep  red  of  mortification  spread  over  Scott's 
face;  he  looked  shyly  at  Nai'da,  doubly  distressed  that 
a  girl  should  hear  the  degrading  term  applied  to  him. 
The  small  girl  returned  his  gaze  without  a  particle  of 
expression  in  her  face. 

"  Mollycoddles,"  continued  Duane  cruelly,  "  do  the 
sort  of  things  you  do.  You're  one." 

"  I — don't  want  to  be  one,"  stammered  Scott. 
"How  can  I  help  it?" 

Duane  ignored  the  appeal.  "  Playing  with  three 
boys  isn't  anything,"  he  said.  "  I  play  with  forty 
every  day." 

"W-where?"  asked   Scott,   overwhelmed. 

"  In  school,  of  course — at  recess — and  before  nine, 
and  after  one.  We  have  fine  times.  School's  all  right. 
Don't  you  even  go  to  school?  " 

Scott  shook  his  head,  too  ashamed  to  speak. 
17 


Naida,  with  a  flirt  of  her  kilted  skirts,  had  abruptly 
turned  her  back  on  him ;  yet  he  was  miserably  cer 
tain  she  was  listening  to  her  brother's  merciless  cat 
echism. 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  even  know  how  to  play 
hockey,"  commented  Duane  contemptuously. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"What  do  you  do?  Play  with  dolls?  Oh,  what  a 
molly!" 

Scott  raised  his  head;  he  had  grown  quite  white. 
Nai'da,  turning,  saw  the  look  on  the  boy's  face. 

"  Duane  doesn't  mean  that,"  she  said ;  "  he's  only 
teasing." 

Geraldine  came  hurrying  back  with  the  boxing- 
gloves  and  a  suit  of  Scott's  very  best  clothes,  halting 
when  she  perceived  the  situation,  for  Scott  had  walked 
up  to  Duane,  and  the  boys  stood  glaring  at  one  an 
other,  hands  doubling  up  into  fists. 

"You  think  I'm  a  molly?"  asked  Scott  in  a  curi 
ously  still  voice. 

"  Yes,  I  do." 

"  Oh,  Scott !  "  cried  Geraldine,  pushing  in  between 
them,  "  you'll  have  to  hammer  him  well  for  that " 

Nai'da  turned  and  shoved  her  brother  aside: 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  fight  him,"  she  said.  "  I 
like  him." 

"  Oh,  but  they  must  fight,  you  know,"  explained 
Geraldine  earnestly.  "  If  we  didn't  fight,  we'd  really 
be  what  you  call  us.  Put  on  Scott's  clothes,  Nai'da, 
and  while  our  brothers  are  fighting,  you  and  I  will 
wrestle  to  prove  that  I'm  not  a  mollycoddle " 

"  I  don't  want  to,"  said  Nai'da  tremulously.  "  I 
like  you,  too " 

"  Well,  you're  one  if  you  don't ! "  retorted  Geral- 
18 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


dine.     "  You  can  like  anybody  and  have  fun  fighting 
them,  too." 

"  Put  on  those  clothes,  Nai'da,"  said  Duane  sternly. 
"Are  you  going  to  take  a  dare?  " 

So  she  retired  very  unwillingly  into  the  hedge  to 
costume  herself  while  the  two  boys  invested  their  fists 
with  the  soft  chamois  gloves  of  combat. 

"  We  won't  bother  to  shake  hands,"  observed  Scott. 
"  Are  you  ready?  " 

"  Yes,  you  will,  too,"  insisted  Geraldine ;  "  shake 
hands  before  you  begin  to  fight !  " 

"  I  won't,"  retorted  Scott  sullenly ;  "  shake  hands 
with  anybody  who  calls  me — what  he  did." 

"  Very  well  then ;  if  you  don't,  I'll  put  on  those 
gloves  and  fight  you  myself." 

Duane's  eyes  flew  wide  open  and  he  gazed  upon 
Geraldine  with  newly  mixed  emotions.  She  walked  over 
to  her  brother  and  said : 

"  Remember  what  Howker  told  us  that  father  used 
to  say — that  squabbling  is  disgraceful  but  a  good  fight 
is  all  right.  Duane  called  you  a  silly  name.  Instead 
of  disputing  about  it  and  calling  each  other  names, 
you  ought  to  settle  it  with  a  fight  and  be  friends  after 
ward.  .  .  .  Isn't  that  so,  Duane?  " 

Duane  seemed  doubtful. 

"  Isn't  it  so  ?  "  she  repeated  fiercely,  stepping  so 
swiftly  in  front  of  him  that  he  jumped  back. 

"  Yes,  I  guess  so,"  he  admitted ;  and  the  sudden 
smile  which  Geraldine  flashed  on  him  completed  his  sub 
jection. 

Nai'da,  in  her  boy's  clothes,  came  out,  her  hands 
in  her  pockets,  strutting  a  little  and  occasionally  bend 
ing  far  over  to  catch  a  view  of  herself  as  best  she 
might. 

19 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  All  ready !  "  cried  Geraldine ;  "  begin !  Look  out, 
Naida;  I'm  going  to  throw  you." 

Behind  her  the  two  boys  touched  gloves,  then  Scott 
rushed  his  man. 

At  the  same  moment  Geraldine  seized  Nai'da. 

"  We  are  not  to  pull  hair,"  she  said ;  "  remember ! 
Now,  dear,  look  out  for  yourself !  " 

Of  that  classic  tournament  between  the  clans  of  Mal- 
lett  and  Seagrave  the  chronicles  are  lacking.  Doubt 
less  their  ancestors  before  them  joined  joyously  in 
battle,  confident  that  all  details  of  their  prowess  would 
be  carefully  recorded  by  the  family  minstrel. 

But  the  battle  of  that  Saturday  noon  hour  was  wit 
nessed  only  by  the  sparrows,  who  were  too  busy  lug 
ging  bits  of  straw  and  twine  to  half-completed  nests 
in  the  cornices  of  the  House  of  Seagrave,  to  pay  much 
attention  to  the  combat  of  the  Seagrave  children,  who 
had  gone  quite  mad  with  the  happiness  of  companion 
ship  and  were  expressing  it  with  all  their  might. 

Nai'da's  dark  curls  mingled  with  the  grass  several 
times  before  Geraldine  comprehended  that  her  new 
companion  was  absurdly  at  her  mercy;  and  then  she 
seized  her  with  all  the  desperation  of  first  possession 
and  kissed  her  hard. 

"  It's  ended,"  breathed  Geraldine  tremulously, 
"  and  nobody  gained  the  victory  and — you  will  love 
me,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know — I'm  all  dirt."  She  looked  at  Ger 
aldine,  bewildered  by  the  passion  of  the  lonely  child's 
caresses.  "  Yes — I  do  love  you,  Geraldine.  Oh,  look 
at  those  boys!  How  perfectly  disgraceful!  They 
must  stop — make  them  stop,  Geraldine !  " 

Hair  on  end,  grass-stained,  dishevelled,  and  un 
speakably  dirty,  the  boys  were  now  sparring  for 

20 


THE   SEAGRAVES 


breath.  Grime  and  perspiration  streaked  their  coun 
tenances.  Duane  Mallett  wore  a  humorously  tinted  eye 
and  a  prehensile  upper  lip;  Scott's  nose  had  again 
yielded  to  the  coy  persuasion  of  a  left-handed  jab  and 
the  proud  blood  of  the  Seagraves  once  more  offended 
high  heaven  on  that  April  day. 

Geraldine,  one  arm  imprisoning  Na'ida's  waist, 
walked  coolly  in  between  them: 

"  Don't  let's  fight  any  more.  The  thing  to  do  is  to 
get  Mrs.  Bramton  to  give  you  enough  for  four  to  eat 
and  bring  it  back  here.  Scott,  please  shake  hands 
with  Duane." 

"  I  wasn't  licked,"  muttered  Scott. 

"  Neither  was  I,"  said  Duane. 

"  Nobody  was  licked  by  anybody,"  announced  Ger 
aldine.  "  Do  get  something  to  eat,  Scott ;  Na'ida  and 
I  are  starving !  " 

After  some  hesitation  the  boys  touched  gloves  re 
spectfully,  and  Scott  shook  off  his  mitts,  and  started 
for  the  kitchen. 

And  there,  to  his  horror  and  surprise,  he  was  con 
fronted  by  Mrs.  Severn,  black  hat,  crape  veil,  and 
gloves  still  on,  evidently  that  instant  arrived  from 
those  occult  and,  as  the  children  supposed,  distant 
bournes  of  Staten  Island,  where  the  supreme  mystery 
of  all  had  been  at  work. 

"  Oh,  Scott ! "  she  exclaimed  tremulously,  "  what 
on  earth  has  happened?  What  is  all  this  that  Mrs. 
Farren  and  Howker  have  been  telling  me  ?  " 

The  boy  stood  petrified.  Then  there  surged  over 
him  the  memory  of  his  brief  happiness  in  these  new 
companions — a  happiness  now  to  be  snatched  away  ere 
scarcely  tasted.  Into  the  child's  dirty,  disfigured  face 
came  a  hunted  expression ;  he  looked  about  for  an  ave- 

21 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


nue  of  escape,  and  Kathleen  Severn  caught  him  at  the 
same  instant  and  drew  him  to  her. 

"  What  is  it,  Scott  ?    Tell  me,  darling ! " 

"  Nothing.  .  .  .  Yes,  there  is  something.  I  opened 
the  front  door  and  let  a  strange  boy  and  girl  in  to  play 
with  us,  and  I've  just  been  fighting  with  him,  and  we 
were  having  such  good  times — I — "  his  voice  broke — 
"  I  can't  bear  to  have  them  go — so  soon " 

Kathleen  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  speechless 
with  consternation.  Then: 

"Where  are  they,  Scott?" 

"  In  the— the  hedge." 

"  Out  there?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Who  are  they?" 

"  Their  names  are  Duane  Mallett  and  Na'ida  Mal- 
lett.  We  got  them  to  run  away  from  their  nurse. 
Duane's  such  a  bully  fellow."  A  sob  choked  him. 

"  Come  with  me  at  once,"  said  Kathleen. 

Behind  the  rhododendrons  smiling  peace  was  ex 
tending  its  pinions ;  Duane  had  produced  a  pocketful 
of  jack-stones,  and  the  three  children  were  now  seated 
on  the  grass,  Naida  manipulating  the  jacks  with  soiled 
but  deft  fingers. 

Duane  was  saying  to  Geraldine: 

"  It's  funny  that  you  didn't  know  you  were  rich. 
Everybody  says  so,  and  all  the  nurses  in  the  Park  talk 
about  it  every  time  you  and  Scott  walk  past." 

"  If  I'm  rich,"  said  Geraldine,  "  why  don't  I  have 
more  money  ?  " 

"  Don't  they  let  you  have  as  much  as  you  want  ?  " 

"  No — only  twenty-five  cents  every  month.  .  .  . 
It's  my  turn,  Nai'da!  Oh,  bother!  I  missed.  Go  on, 

Duane^ " 

22 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


And,  glancing  up,  her  tongue  clove  to  the  roof  of 
her  mouth  as  Kathleen  Severn,  in  her  mourning  veil 
and  gown,  came  straight  up  to  where  they  sat. 

"  Geraldine,  dear,  the  grass  is  too  damp  to  sit  on," 
said  Mrs.  Severn  quietly.  She  turned  to  the  youthful 
guests,  who  had  hastily  risen. 

"  You  are  Nai'da  Mallett,  it  seems ;  and  you  are 
Duane?  Please  come  in  now  and  wash  and  dress  prop 
erly,  because  I  am  going  to  telephone  to  your  mother 
and  ask  her  if  you  may  remain  to  luncheon  and  play 
in  the  nursery  afterward." 

Dazed,  the  children  silently  followed  her;  one  of 
her  arms  lay  loosely  about  the  shoulders  of  her  own 
charges ;  one  encircled  Nai'da's  neck.  Duane  walked 
cautiously  beside  his  sister. 

In  the  house  the  nurses  took  charge;  Geraldine, 
turning  on  the  stairs,  looked  back  at  Kathleen  Severn. 

"  Are  you  really  going  to  let  them  stay  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am,  darling." 

"  And — and  may  we  play  together  all  alone  in  the 
nursery  ?  " 

"  I  think  so.   ...  I  think  so,  dear." 

She  ran  back  back  down  the  stairs  and  impetuously 
flung  herself  into  Kathleen's  arms;  then  danced  away 
to  join  the  others  in  the  blessed  regions  above. 

Mrs.  Severn  moved  slowly  to  the  telephone,  and  first 
called  up  and  reassured  Mrs.  Mallett,  who,  however, 
knew  nothing  about  the  affair,  as  the  nurse  was  still 
scouring  the  Park  for  her  charges. 

Then  Mrs.  Severn  called  up  the  Half  Moon  Trust 
Company  and  presently  was  put  into  communication 
with  Colonel  Mallett,  the  president.  To  him  she  told 
the  entire  story,  and  added: 

"  It  was  inevitable  that  the  gossip  of  servants 
3  23 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


should  enlighten  the  children  sooner  or  later.  The 
irony  of  it  all  is  that  this  gossip  filtered  in  here  through 
your  son,  Duane.  That  is  how  the  case  stands,  Colonel 
Mallett;  and  I  have  used  my  judgment  and  permitted 
the  children  this  large  liberty  which  they  have  long 
needed,  believe  me,  long,  long  needed.  I  hope  that  your 
trust  officer,  Mr.  Tappan,  will  approve." 

"  Good  Lord !  "  said  Colonel  Mallett  over  the  wire. 
"  Tappan  won't  stand  for  it !  You  know  that  he  won't, 
Mrs.  Severn.  I  suppose,  if  he  consults  us,  we  can  call 
a  directors'  meeting  and  consider  this  new  phase  of 
the  case." 

"  You  ought  to ;  the  time  is  already  here  when  the 
children  should  no  longer  suffer  such  utter  isolation. 
They  must  make  acquaintances,  they  must  have  friends, 
they  should  go  to  parties  like  other  children — they 
ought  to  be  given  outside  schooling  sooner  or  later. 
All  of  which  questions  must  be  taken  up  by  your  direc 
tors  as  soon  as  possible,  because  my  children  are  fast 
getting  out  of  hand — fast  getting  away  from  me;  and 
before  I  know  it  I  shall  have  a  young  man  and  a  young 
girl  to  account  for — and  to  account  to,  colonel " 

"  I'll  sift  out  the  whole  matter  with  Mr.  Tappan ; 
I'll  speak  to  Mr.  Grandcourt  and  Mr.  Beekman  to 
night.  Until  you  hear  from  us,  no  more  visitors  for 
the  children.  By  the  way,  is  that  matter — the  one  we 
talked  over  last  month — definitely  settled?  " 

"  Yes.  I  can't  help  being  worried  by  the  inclina 
tion  she  displays.  It  frightens  me  in  such  a  child." 

"Scott  doesn't  show  it?" 

"  No.     He  hates  anything  like  that." 

"  Do  the  servants  thoroughly  understand  your 
orders  ?  " 

"  I'm  a  little  troubled.  I  have  given  orders  that  no 
24 


THE   SE AGRAFES 


more  brandied  peaches  are  to  be  made  or  kept  in  the 
house.  The  child  was  perfectly  truthful  about  it.  She 
admitted  filling  her  cologne  bottle  with  the  syrup  and 
sipping  it  after  she  was  supposed  to  be  asleep." 

"  Have  you  found  out  about  the  sherry  she  stole 
from  the  kitchen  ?  " 

"  Yes.  She  told  me  that  for  weeks  she  had  kept  it 
hidden  and  soaked  a  lump  of  sugar  in  it  every  night. 
.  .  .  She  is  absolutely  truthful,  colonel.  I've  tried  to 
make  her  understand  the  danger." 

"  All  right.  Good-bye."  Kathleen  Severn  hung 
up  the  receiver  with  a  deep  indrawn  breath. 

From  the  nursery  above  came  a  joyous  clamour 
and  trampling  and  shouting. 

Suddenly  she  covered  her  face  with  her  black- 
gloved  hands. 


CHAPTER    II 

IN    TRUST 

THE  enfranchisement  of  the  Seagrave  twins  pro 
ceeded  too  slowly  to  satisfy  their  increasing  desire  for 
personal  liberty  and  their  fast-growing  impatience  of 
restraint. 

Occasionally,  a  few  carefully  selected  and  assorted 
children  were  permitted  to  visit  them  in  relays,  and 
play  in  the  nursery  for  limited  periods  without  the 
personal  supervision  of  Kathleen  or  the  nurses ;  but  no 
serious  innovation  was  attempted,  no  radical  step 
taken  without  authority  from  old  Remsen  Tappan,  the 
trust  officer  of  the  great  Half  Moon  Trust  Company. 

There  could  be  no  arguing  with  Mr.  Tappan. 

Shortly  before  Anthony  Seagrave  died  he  had  writ 
ten  to  his  old  friend  Tappan :  "  If  I  live,  I  shall  see  to 
it  that  my  grandchildren  know  nothing  of  the  fortune 
awaiting  them  until  they  become  of  age — which  will 
be  after  I  am  ended.  Meanwhile,  plain  food  and  cloth 
ing,  wholesome  home  seclusion  from  the  promiscuity 
of  modern  child  life,  and  an  exhaustive  education  in 
every  grace,  fashion,  and  accomplishment  of  body  and 
intellect  is  the  training  I  propose  for  the  development 
in  them  of  the  only  thing  in  the  world  worth  cultivating 
— unterrified  individualism. 

"  The  ignorance  which  characterises  the  conduct  of 
modern  institutes  of  education  reduces  us  all  to  one 
mindless  level,  reproducing  ad  nauseam  what  is  known 

26 


IN    TRUST 


as  '  average  citizens.'  This  nation  is  already  crawl 
ing  with  them ;  art,  religion,  letters,  government, 
business,  human  ideals  remain  embryonic  because  the 
'  average  citizen '  can  conceive  nothing  higher,  can 
comprehend  nothing  loftier  even  when  the  few  who  have 
escaped  the  deadly  levelling  grind  of  modern  methods 
of  education  attempt  to  teach  the  masses  to  think  for 
themselves. 

"  That  is  bad  enough  in  itself — but  add  to  cut-and- 
dried  pedagogy  the  outrageous  liberty  which  modern 
pupils  are  permitted  in  school  and  college,  and  add  to 
that  the  unheard-of  luxury  in  which  they  live — and  the 
result  is  stupidity  and  utter  ruin. 

"  My  babies  must  have  discipline,  system,  frugal 
ity,  and  leisure  for  individual  development  drilled  into 
them.  I  do  not  wish  them  to  be  ignorant  of  one  single 
modern  grace  and  accomplishment;  mind  and  body 
must  be  trained  together  like  a  pair  of  Morgan  colts. 

"  But  I  will  not  have  them  victims  of  pedagogy ;  I 
will  not  have  them  masters  of  their  time  and  money 
until  they  are  of  age ;  I  will  not  permit  them  to  choose 
companions  or  pursuits  for  their  leisure  until  they  are 
fitted  to  do  so. 

"  If  there  is  in  them,  latent,  any  propensity  toward 
viciousness — any  unawakened  desire  for  that  which  has 
been  my  failing — hard  work  from  dawn  till  dark  is  the 
antidote.  An  exhausted  child  is  beyond  temptation. 

"  If  I  pass  forward,  Tappan,  before  you — and  it  is 
likely  because  I  am  twenty  years  older  and  I  have  lived 
unwisely — I  shall  arrange  matters  in  such  shape  that 
you  can  carry  out  something  of  what  I  have  tried  to 
begin,  far  better  than  I,  old  friend;  for  I  am  strong 
in  theory  and  very  weak  in  practice ;  they  are  such  dear 
little  things!  And  when  they  cry  to  be  taken  up — 

27 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


and  a  modern  trained  nurse  says  '  No !  let  them  cry ! ' 
good  God!  Remsen,  I  sometimes  sneak  into  their  thor 
oughly  modern  and  scientifically  arranged  nursery, 
which  resembles  an  operating  room  in  a  brand-new  hos 
pital,  and  I  take  up  my  babies  and  rock  them  in  my 
arms,  terrified  lest  that  modern  and  highly  trained 
nurse  discover  my  infraction  of  sanitary  rule  and  pre 
cept. 

"  I  don't  know ;  babies  were  born,  and  survived  cra 
dles  and  mothers'  arms  and  kisses  long  before  sterilised 
milk  and  bacilli  were  invented. 

"  You  see  I  am  weak  in  more  ways  than  one.  But 
I  do  mean  to  give  them  every  chance.  It  isn't  that 
these  old  arms  ache  for  them,  that  this  rather  tired 
heart  weakens  when  they  cry  for  God  knows  what,  and 
modern  science  says  let  them  cry! — it  is  that,  deep  in 
me,  Tappan,  a  heathenish  idea  persists  that  what  they 
need  more  than  hygienics  and  scientific  discipline  is 
some  of  that  old-fashioned  love — love  which  rocks  them 
when  it  is  not  good  for  them — love  which  overfeeds 
them  sometimes  so  that  they  yell  with  old-fashioned 
colic — love  which  ventures  a  bacilli-laden  kiss.  Friend, 
friend — I  am  very  unfit !  It  will  be  well  for  them  when 
I  move  on.  Only  try  to  love  them,  Tappan.  And  if 
you  ever  doubt,  kill  them  with  indulgence,  rather  than 
with  hygiene ! " 

He  died  of  pneumonia  a  few  weeks  later.  He  had 
no  chance.  Remsen  Tappan  picked  up  the  torch  from 
the  fallen  hand  and,  blowing  it  into  a  brisk  blaze, 
shuffled  forward  to  light  a  path  through  life  for  the 
highly  sterilised  twins. 

So  the  Half  Moon  Trust  became  father  and  mother 
to  the  Seagrave  children;  and  Mr.  Tappan  as  dry 

28 


IN   TRUST 


nurse  prescribed  the  brand  of  intellectual  pap  for  them 
and  decided  in  what  manner  it  should  be  administered. 

Now  home  tuition  and  the  "  culture  of  the  indi- 
widool  "  was  a  personal  hobby  of  Mr.  Tappan,  and 
promiscuous  schools  his  abomination.  Had  not  his 
own  son,  Peter  Stuyvesant  Tappan,  been  reared  upon 
unsteady  legs  to  magnificent  physical  and  intellectual 
manhood  under  this  theory? 

So  there  was  to  be  no  outside  education  for  the 
youthful  Seagraves;  from  the  nursery  schoolroom  no 
chance  of  escape  remained.  As  they  grew  older  they 
became  wild  to  go  to  school ;  stories  of  schoolrooms  and 
playgrounds  and  studies  and  teachers  and  jolly  fellow 
ship  and  vacations,  brought  to  them  from  outside  by 
happier  children,  almost  crazed  them  with  the  longing 
for  it. 

It  was  hard  for  them  when  their  little  friends  the 
Malletts  were  sent  abroad  to  school;  Nai'da,  now  aged 
twelve,  to  a  convent,  and  Duane,  who  was  now  fifteen, 
three  years  older  than  the  Seagrave  twins,  accompanied 
his  mother  and  a  tutor,  later  to  enter  some  school  of 
art  in  Paris  and  develop  whatever  was  in  him.  For 
like  all  parents,  Duane's  had  been  terribly  excited  over 
his  infantile  efforts  at  picture-making  —  one  of  the 
commonest  and  earliest  developed  of  talents,  but  which 
never  fails  to  amaze  and  delight  less  gifted  parents 
and  which  continues  to  overstock  the  world  with  medi 
ocre  artists. 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Colonel  Mallett  should 
spend  every  summer  abroad  with  his  wife  to  watch  the 
incubation  of  Duane's  Titianesque  genius  and  Nai'da's 
unbelievable  talent  for  music ;  and  when  the  children 
came  to  bid  good-bye  to  the  Seagrave  twins,  they  seized 
each  other  with  frantic  embraces,  vowing  lifelong  fidel- 

29 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ity.  Alas !  it  is  those  who  depart  who  forget  first ;  and 
at  the  end  of  a  year,  Geraldine's  and  Scott's  letters 
remained  unanswered. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen,  after  an  extraordinary  meet 
ing  of  the  directors  of  the  Half  Moon  Trust  Company, 
it  was  formally  decided  that  a  series  of  special  tutors 
should  now  be  engaged  to  carry  on  to  the  bitter  end 
the  Tappan-Seagrave  system  of  home  culture;  and  the 
road  to  college  was  definitely  closed. 

"  I  want  my  views  understood,"  said  Mr.  Tappan, 
addressing  the  board  of  solemn-visaged  directors  as 
sembled  in  session  to  determine  upon  the  fate  of  two 
motherless  little  children.  "  Indiwidoolism  is  nurtured 
in  excloosion;  the  elimination  of  the  extraneous  is  nec 
essary  for  the  dewelopment  of  indiwidoolism.  I  regard 
the  human  indiwidool  as  sacred.  Like  a  pearl " — he 
pronounced  it  "  poil " — "  it  can  grow  in  beauty  and 
symmetry  and  purity  and  polish  only  when  nourished 
in  seclusion.  Indiwidoolism  is  a  poil  without  price ;  and 
the  natal  mansion,  gentlemen — if  I  may  be  permitted 
the  simulcritude — is  its  oyster. 

"  My  old  friend,  Anthony  Seagrave,  shared  with 
me  this  unalterable  conwiction.  I  remember  in  the 
autumn  of  1859 " 

The  directors  settled  themselves  in  their  wadded 
arm-chairs;  several  yawned;  some  folded  their  hands 
over  their  ample  stomachs.  The  June  atmosphere  was 
pleasantly  conducive  to  the  sort  of  after-luncheon  in 
trospection  which  is  easily  soothed  by  monotones  of  the 
human  voice. 

And  while  Mr.  Tappan  droned  on  and  on,  some  of 
the  directors  watched  him  with  one  eye  half  open,  think 
ing  of  other  things,  and  some  listened,  both  eyes  half 
closed,  thinking  of  nothing  at  all. 

30 


IN   TRUST 


Many  considered  Mr.  Tappan  a  very  terrible  old 
man,  though  why  terrible,  unless  the  most  rigid  hon 
esty  and  bigoted  devotion  to  duty  terrifies,  nobody 
seemed  to  know. 

Long  Island  Dutch — with  all  that  it  implies — was 
the  dull  stock  he  rooted  in.  Born  a  poor  farmer's  son, 
with  a  savage  passion  for  learning,  he  almost  de 
stroyed  his  eyesight  in  lonely  study  under  the  flicker  of 
tallow  dips.  All  that  had  ever  come  to  him  of  knowl 
edge  came  in  these  solitary  vigils.  Miry  and  sweating 
from  the  plough  he  mastered  the  classics,  law,  chemistry, 
engineering;  and  finally  emerging  heavily  from  the 
reek  of  Long  Island  fertiliser,  struck  with  a  heavy 
surety  at  Fortune  and  brought  her  to  her  knees  amidst 
a  shower  of  gold.  And  all  alone  he  gathered  it  in. 

On  Coenties  Slip  his  warehouse  still  bore  the  le 
gend:  "  R.  Tappan:  Iron."  All  that  he  had  ever  done 
he  had  done  alone.  He  knew  of  no  other  way ;  believed 
in  no  other  way. 

Plain  living,  plainer  clothing,  tireless  thinking  un 
disturbed — that  had  been  his  childhood;  and  it  had 
suited  him. 

Never  but  once  had  he  made  any  concession  to  cus 
tom  and  nature,  and  that  was  only  when,  desiring  an 
heir,  he  was  obliged  to  enter  into  human  partnership 
to  realise  the  wish. 

His  son  was  what  his  father  had  made  him  under 
the  iron  cult  of  solitary  development ;  and  now,  the 
father,  loyal  in  his  own  way  to  the  memory  of  his  old 
friend  Anthony  Seagrave,  meant  to  do  his  full  duty 
toward  the  orphaned  grandchildren. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  tutors  and  specialists  re 
placed  Kathleen  in  the  schoolroom ;  and  these  minis 
tered  to  the  twin  "  poils,"  who  were  now  fretting 
4  31 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


through  their  thirteenth  year,  mad  with  desire  for 
boarding-school. 

Four  languages  besides  their  own  were  adroitly 
stuffed  into  them;  nor  were  letters,  arts,  and  sciences 
neglected,  nor  the  mundane  and  social  patter,  accom 
plishments,  and  refinements,  including  poise,  pose,  and 
deportment. 

Specialists  continued  to  guide  them  indoors  and 
out;  they  rode  every  morning  at  eight  with  a  special 
ist;  they  drove  in  the  Park  between  four  and  five  with 
the  most  noted  of  four-in-hand  specialists ;  fencing, 
sparring,  wrestling,  swimming,  gymnastics,  were  all 
supervised  by  specialists  in  those  several  very  impor 
tant  and  scientific  arts ;  and  specialists  also  taught  them 
hygiene:  how  to  walk,  sit,  breathe;  how  to  masticate; 
how  to  relax  after  the  manner  of  the  domestic  cat. 

They  had  memory  lessons;  lessons  in  personal 
physiology,  and  in  first  aid  to  themselves. 

Specialists  cared  for  their  teeth,  their  eyes,  their 
hair,  their  skin,  their  hands  and  feet. 

Everything  that  was  taught  them,  done  for  them, 
indirectly  educated  them  in  the  science  of  self-consid 
eration  and  deepened  an  unavoidably  natural  belief  in 
their  own  overwhelming  importance.  They  had  not 
been  born  so. 

But  in  the  house  of  Seagrave  everything  revolved 
around  and  centred  in  them ;  everything  began  for  them 
and  ended  for  them  alone.  They  had  no  chance. 

True,  they  were  also  instructed  in  theology  and  re 
ligion;  they  became  well  grounded  in  the  elements  of 
both, — laws,  by-laws,  theory,  legends,  proverbs,  tru 
isms,  and  even  a  few  abstract  truths.  But  there  was  no 
meaning  in  either  to  these  little  prisoners  of  self.  Se 
clusion  is  an  enemy  to  youth;  solitude  its  destruction. 


IN    TRUST 


When  the  twins  were  fifteen  they  went  to  their  first 
party.  A  week  of  superficial  self-restraint  and  inward 
delirium  was  their  preparation,  a  brief  hour  of  passive 
bewilderment  the  realisation.  Dazed  by  the  sight  and 
touch  and  clamor  of  the  throng,  they  moved  and  spoke 
as  in  a  vision.  The  presence  of  their  own  kind  in  such 
numbers  confused  them;  overwhelmed,  they  found  no 
voices  to  answer  the  call  of  happiness.  Their  capacity 
to  respond  was  too  limited. 

As  in  a  dream  they  were  removed  earlier  than  any 
body  else — taken  away  by  a  footman  and  a  maid  with 
decorous  pomp  and  circumstance,  carefully  muffled  in 
motor  robes,  and  embedded  in  a  limousine. 

The  daily  papers,  with  that  lofty  purpose  which 
always  characterises  them,  recorded  next  morning  the 
important  fact  that  the  famous  Seagrave  twins  had 
appeared  at  their  first  party. 

Between  the  ages  of  fifteen  and  sixteen  the  twins 
might  have  entered  Harvard,  for  the  entrance  exam 
inations  were  tried  on  both  children,  and  both  passed 
brilliantly. 

For  a  year  or  two  they  found  a  substitute  for  hap 
piness  in  pretending  that  they  were  really  at  college; 
they  simulated,  day  by  day,  the  life  that  they  supposed 
was  led  there ;  they  became  devoted  to  their  new  game. 
Excited  through  tales  told  by  tutor  and  friend,  they  de 
veloped  a  passionate  loyalty  for  their  college  and  class ; 
they  were  solemnly  elected  to  coveted  societies,  they 
witnessed  Harvard  victories,  they  strove  fiercely  for 
honours;  their  ideals  were  lofty,  their  courage  clean 
and  high. 

So  completely  absorbed  in  the  pretence  did  they 
become  that  their  own  tutors  ventured  to  suggest  to 

33 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


Mr.  Tappan  that  such  fiercely  realistic  mimicry  de 
served  to  be  rewarded.  Unfortunately,  the  children 
heard  of  this;  but  the  Trust  Officer's  short  answer 
killed  their  interest  in  playing  at  happiness,  and  their 
junior  year  began  listlessly  and  continued  without  am 
bition.  There  was  no  heart  in  the  pretence.  Their  in 
terest  had  died.  They  studied  mechanically  because 
they  were  obliged  to ;  they  no  longer  cared. 

That  winter  they  went  to  a  few  more  parties — not 
many.  However,  they  were  gingerly  permitted  to  wit 
ness  their  first  play,  and  later,  the  same  year,  were 
taken  to  "  Lohengrin  "  at  the  opera. 

During  the  play,  which  was  a  highly  moral  one, 
they  sat  watching,  listening,  wide-eyed  as  children. 

At  the  opera  Geraldine's  impetuous  soul  soared 
straight  up  to  paradise  with  the  first  heavenly  strains, 
and  remained  there  far  above  the  rigid,  breathless  lit 
tle  body,  bolt  upright  in  its  golden  sarcophagus  of  the 
grand  tier. 

Her  physical  consciousness  really  seemed  to  have 
fled.  Until  the  end  she  sat  unaware  of  the  throngs,  of 
Scott  and  Kathleen  whispering  behind  her,  of  several 
tall,  broad-shouldered,  shy  young  fellows  who  came 
into  their  box  between  the  acts  and  tried  to  discuss 
anything  at  all  with  her,  only  to  find  her  blind,  deaf, 
and  dumb. 

These  were  the  only  memories  of  her  first  opera — 
a  confused,  chaotic  brilliancy,  paradise  revealed:  and 
long,  long  afterward,  the  carriage  flying  up  Fifth 
Avenue  through  darkness  all  gray  with  whirling  snow. 

Their  eighteenth  year  dragged,  beginning  in  physi 
cal  and  intellectual  indifference,  but  promised  stormily 
as  they  became  more  accustomed  to  glimpses  of  an  out- 

34 


IN   TRUST 


side  world — a  world  teeming  with  restless  young  people 
in  unbelievable  quantities. 

Scott  had  begun  to  develop  two  traits :  laziness  and 
a  tendency  to  sullen,  unspoken  wrath.  He  took  more 
liberty  than  was  officially  granted  him  —  more  than 
Geraldine  dared  take — and  came  into  collision  with 
Kathleen  more  often  now.  He  boldly  overstayed  his 
leave  in  visiting  his  few  boy  friends  for  an  afternoon; 
he  returned  home  alone  on  foot  after  dusk,  telling  the 
chauffeur  to  go  to  the  devil.  Again  and  again  he  re 
mained  out  to  dinner  without  permission,  and,  finally, 
one  afternoon  quietly  and  stealthily  cut  his  studies, 
slipped  out  of  the  house,  and  reappeared  about  dinner 
time,  excited,  inclined  to  be  boisterously  defiant,  admit 
ting  that  he  had  borrowed  enough  money  from  a  friend 
to  go  to  a  matinee  with  some  other  boys,  and  that  he 
would  do  it  again  if  he  chose. 

Also,  to  Kathleen's  horror,  he  swore  deliberately 
at  table  when  Mr.  Tappan's  name  was  mentioned;  and 
Geraldine  looked  up  with  startled  brown  eyes,  divining 
in  her  brother  something  new — something  that  uncon 
sciously  they  both  had  long,  long  waited  for — the  revolt 
of  youth  ere  youth  had  been  crushed  for  ever  from  the 
body  which  encased  it. 

"  Damn  him,"  repeated  Scott,  a  little  frightened  at 
his  own  words  and  attitude ;  "  I've  had  enough  of  this 
baby  business ;  I'm  eighteen  and  I  want  two  things : 
some  friends  to  go  about  with  freely,  and  some  money 
to  do  what  other  boys  do.  And  you  can  tell  Mr.  Tap- 
pan,  for  all  I  care." 

"  What  would  you  buy  with  money  that  is  not  al 
ready  provided  for,  Scott? "  asked  Kathleen,  gently 
ignoring  his  excited  profanity. 

"  I  don't  know ;  there  is  no  pleasure  in  using  things 
35 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


which  that  fool  of  a  Trust  Company  votes  to  let  you 
have.     Anyway,  what  I  want  is  liberty  and  money." 

"  What  would  you  do  with  what  you  call  liberty, 
dear?  " 

"  Do  ?  I'd — I'd — well,  I'd  go  shooting  if  I  wanted 
to.  I'd  buy  a  gun  and  go  off  somewhere  after  ducks." 

"  But  your  father's  old  club  on  the  Chesapeake  is 
open  to  you.  Shall  I  ask  Mr.  Tappan  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I  know,"  he  sneered,  "  and  Mr.  Tappan 
would  send  some  chump  of  a  tutor  there  to  teach  me. 
I  don't  want  to  be  taught  how  to  hit  ducks.  I  want  to 
find  out  for  myself.  I  don't  care  for  that  sort  of 
thing,"  he  repeated  savagely;  "I  just  ache  to  go  off 
somewhere  with  a  boy  of  my  own  age  where  there's  no 
club  and  no  preserve  and  no  tutor;  and  where  I  can 
knock  about  and  get  whatever  there  is  to  get  without 
anybody's  help." 

Geraldine  said :  "  You  have  more  liberty  now  than 
I  have,  Scott.  What  are  you  howling  for  ?  " 

"  The  only  real  liberty  I  have  I  take !  Anyway,  you 
have  enough  for  a  girl  of  your  age.  And  you'd  better 
shut  up." 

"  I  won't  shut  up,"  she  retorted  irritably.  "  I 
want  liberty  as  much  as  you  do.  If  I  had  any,  I'd  go 
to  every  play  and  opera  in  New  York.  And  I'd  go 
about  with  my  friends  and  I'd  have  gowns  fitted,  and 
I'd  have  tea  at  Sherry's,  and  I'd  shop  and  go  to  mati 
nees  and  to  the  Exchange,  and  I'd  be  elected  a  member 
of  the  Commonwealth  Club  and  play  basket-ball  there, 
and  swim,  and  lunch  and — and  then  have  another  fit- 
ting " 

"  Is  that  what  you'd  do  with  your  liberty  ?  "  he 
sneered.  "  Well,  I  don't  wonder  old  Tappan  doesn't 
give  you  any  money." 

36 


IN   TRUST 


"  I  do  need  money  and  decent  gowns.  I'm  sick  of 
the  frumpy  prunes-and-prisms  frocks  that  Kathleen 
makes  me  wear " 

Kathleen's  troubled  laugh  interrupted  her: 

"  Dearest,  I  do  the  best  I  can  on  the  allowance  made 
you  by  Mr.  Tappan.  His  ideas  on  modern  feminine  ap 
parel  are  perhaps  not  yours  or  mine." 

"  I  should  say  not !  "  returned  Geraldine  angrily. 
"  There  isn't  a  girl  of  my  age  who  dresses  as  horridly 
as  I  do.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Tappan  has  got  to  let  me 
have  money  enough  to  dress  decently.  If  he  doesn't, 
I — I'll  begin  to  give  him  as  much  trouble  as  Scott  does 
— more,  too !  " 

She  set  her  teeth  and  stared  at  her  glass  of  water. 

"  What  about  my  coming-out   gown  ?  "   she   asked. 

"  I  have  written  him  about  your  debut,"  said  Kath 
leen  soothingly. 

"  Oh!     What  did  the  old  beast  say?  " 

"  He  writes,"  began  Kathleen  pleasantly,  "  that  he 
considers  eighteen  an  unsuitable  age  for  a  young  girl 
to  make  her  bow  to  New  York  society." 

"Did  he  say  that?"  exclaimed  Geraldine,  furious. 
"  Very  well ;  I  shall  write  to  Colonel  Mallett  and  tell 
him  I  simply  will  not  endure  it  any  longer.  I've  had 
enough  education;  I'm  suffocated  with  it!  Besides,  I 
dislike  it.  I  want  a  dinner-gown  and  a  ball-gown  and 
my  hair  waved  and  dressed  on  top  of  my  head  instead 
of  bunched  half  way !  I  want  to  have  an  engagement 
pad — I  want  to  have  places  to  go  to — people  expect 
ing  me ;  I  want  silk  stockings  and  pretty  underclothes ! 
Doesn't  that  old  fool  understand  what  a  girl  wants  and 
needs  ?  " 

She  half  rose  from  her  seat  at  the  table,  pushing 
away  the  fruit  which  a  servant  offered;  and,  laying  her 

37 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


hands  flat  on  the  cloth,  leaned  forward,  eyes  flashing 
ominously. 

"  I'm  getting  tired  of  this,"  she  said.  "  If  it  goes 
on,  I'll  probably  run  away." 

"  So  will  I,"  said  Scott,  "  but  I've  good  reasons. 
They  haven't  done  anything  to  you.  You're  making 
a  terrible  row  about  nothing." 

"  Yes,  they  have !  They've  suppressed  me,  stifled 
me,  bottled  me  up,  tinkered  at  me,  overgroomed  me, 
dressed  me  ridiculously,  and  stuffed  my  mind.  And 
I'm  starved  all  the  time !  O  Kathleen,  I'm  hungry ! 
hungry!  Can't  you  understand? 

"  They've  made  me  into  something  I  was  not.  I've 
never  yet  had  a  chance  to  be  myself.  Why  couldn't 
they  let  me  be  it?  I  know — I  know  that  when  at  last 
they  set  me  free  because  they  have  to — I — I'll  act  like 
a  fool;  I'll  not  know  what  to  do  with  my  liberty — I'll 
not  know  how  to  use  it — how  to  understand  or  be  under 
stood.  .  .  .  Tell  Mr.  Tappan  that !  Tell  him  that  it  is 
all  silly  and  wrong !  Tell  him  that  a  young  girl  never 
forgets  when  other  girls  laugh  at  her  because  she  never 
had  any  money,  and  dresses  like  a  frump,  and  wears  her 
hair  like  a  baby!  .  .  .  And  if  he  doesn't  listen  to  us, 
some  day  Scott  and  I  will  show  him  and  the  others 
how  we  feel  about  it !  I  can  make  as  much  trouble  as 
Scott  can ;  Til  do  it,  too " 

"Geraldine!" 

"  Very  well.  I'm  boiling  inside  when  I  think  of — 
some  things.  The  injustice  of  a  lot  of  hateful,  snuffy 
old  men  deciding  on  what  sort  of  underclothes  a  young 
girl  shall  wear!  .  .  .  And  I  will  make  my  debut!  I 
will!  I  will!" 

"  Dearest » 

"  Yes,  I  will !  I'll  write  to  them  and  complain 
38 


IN    TRUST 


of  Mr.  Tappan's  stingy,  unjust  treatment  of  us 
both " 

"  Let  me  do  the  writing,  dear,"  said  Kathleen 
quietly.  And  she  rose  from  the  table  and  left  the  din 
ing-room,  both  arms  around  the  necks  of  the  Seagrave 
twins,  drawing  them  close  to  her  sides — closer  when  her 
sidelong  glance  caught  the  sullen  bitterness  on  the 
darkening  features  of  the  boy,  and  when  on  the  girl's 
fair  face  she  saw  the  flushed,  wide-eyed,  questioning 
stare. 

When  the  young,  seeking  reasons,  gaze  question- 
ingly  at  nothing,  it  is  well  to  divine  and  find  the  truth 
ful  answer,  lest  their  other  selves,  evoked,  stir  in  dark 
ness,  counselling  folly. 

The  answer  to  such  questions  Kathleen  knew;  who 
should  know  better  than  she?  But  it  was  not  for  her 
to  reply.  All  she  could  do  was  to  summon  out  of  the 
vasty  deep  the  powers  that  ruled  her  wards  and  herself ; 
and  these,  convoked  in  solemn  assembly  because  of  con 
flict  with  their  Trust  Officer,  might  decide  in  becoming 
gravity  such  questions  as  what  shall  be  the  proper  qual 
ity  and  cost  of  a  young  girl's  corsets ;  and  whether 
or  not  real  lace  and  silk  are  necessary  for  attire  more 
intimate  still. 

During  the  next  two  years  the  steadily  increasing 
friction  between  Remsen  Tappan  and  his  wards  began 
seriously  to  disturb  the  directors  of  the  Half  Moon 
Trust.  That  worthy  old  line  company  viewed  with  un 
easiness  the  revolutionary  tendencies  of  the  Seagrave 
twins  as  expressed  in  periodical  and  passionate  let 
ters  to  Colonel  Mallett.  The  increasing  frequency  of 
these  appeals  for  justice  and  for  intervention  fore 
shadowed  the  desirability  of  a  conference.  Besides, 

39 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


there  was  a  graver  matter  to  consider,  which  implicated 
Scott. 

When  Kathleen  wrote,  suggesting  a  down-town  con 
ference  to  decide  delicate  questions  concerning  Ger- 
aldine's  undergarments  and  Scott's  new  gun,  Colonel 
Mallett  found  it  more  convenient  to  appoint  the  Sea- 
grave  house  as  rendezvous. 

And  so  it  came  to  pass  one  pleasant  Saturday  after 
noon  in  late  October  that,  in  twos  and  threes,  a  number 
of  solemn  old  gentlemen,  faultlessly  attired,  entered  the 
red  drawing-room  of  the  Seagrave  house  and  seated 
themselves  in  an  impressive  semicircle  upon  the  damask 
chairs. 

They  were  Colonel  Stuart  Mallett,  president  of  the 
institution,  just  returned  from  Paris  with  his  entire 
family;  Calvin  McDermott,  Joshua  Hogg,  Carl  Gum- 
ble,  Friedrich  Gumble;  the  two  vice-presidents,  James 
Cray  and  Daniel  Montross;  Myndert  Beekman,  treas 
urer;  Augustus  Varick,  secretary;  the  Hon.  John  D. 
Eflis;  Magnelius  Grandcourt  2d,  and  Remsen  Tappan, 
Trust  Officer. 

If  the  pillars  of  the  house  of  Seagrave  had  been 
founded  upon  millions,  the  damask  and  rosewood  chairs 
in  the  red  drawing-room  now  groaned  under  the  weight 
of  millions.  Power,  authority,  respectability,  and  legit 
imate  affluence  sat  there  majestically  enthroned  in  the 
mansion  of  the  late  Anthony  Seagrave,  awaiting  in  seri 
ous  tribunal  the  appearance  of  the  last  of  that  old  New 
York  family. 

Mrs.  Severn  came  in  first ;  the  directors  rose  as  one 
man,  urbane,  sprightly,  and  gallant.  She  was  exceed 
ingly  pretty ;  they  recognised  it.  They  could  afford  to. 

Compositely  they  were  a  smooth,  soft-stepping, 
soft-voiced  company.  An  exception  or  two,  like  Mr. 

40 


IN   TRUST 


Tappan,  merely  accented  the  composite  impression  of 
rosy-cheeked,  neatly  shaven,  carefully  dressed  prosper 
ity.  They  all  were  cautious  of  voice,  moderate  of 
speech,  chary  of  gesture.  There  was  always  an  im 
pressive  pause  before  a  director  of  the  Half  Moon 
Trust  answered  even  the  most  harmless  question  ad 
dressed  to  him.  Some  among  them  made  it  a  conser 
vative  rule  to  swallow  nothing  several  times  before 
speaking  at  all.  It  was  a  safe  habit  to  acquire.  Aut 
prudens  aut  nullus. 

Geraldine's  starched  skirts  rustled  on  the  stairway. 
When  she  came  into  the  room  the  directors  of  the  Half 
Moon  Trust  were  slightly  astonished.  During  the 
youth  of  the  twins,  the  wives  of  several  gentlemen  pres 
ent  had  called  at  intervals  to  inspect  the  growth  of 
Anthony  Seagrave's  grandchildren,  particularly  those 
worthy  and  acquisitive  ladies  who  had  children  them 
selves.  The  far-sighted  reap  rewards.  Some  day  these 
baby  twins  would  be  old  enough  to  marry.  It  was 
prudent  to  remember  such  details.  A  position  as  an  eld 
family  friend  might  one  day  prove  of  thrifty  advantage 
in  this  miserably  mercenary  world  where  dog  eats  dog, 
and  dividends  are  sometimes  passed.  God  knows  and 
pities  the  sorrows  of  the  rich. 

Geraldine,  her  slim  hand  in  Colonel  Mallett's,  cour- 
tesied  with  old-time  quaintness,  then  her  lifted  eyes 
swept  the  rosy,  rotund  countenances  before  her.  To 
each  she  courtesied  and  spoke,  offering  the  questioning 
hand  of  amity. 

The  thing  that  seemed  to  surprise  them  was  that  she 
had  grown  since  they  had  seen  her.  Time  flies  when 
hunting  safe  investments.  The  manners  she  retained, 
like  her  fashion  of  wearing  her  hair,  and  the  cut  and 
length  of  her  apparel  were  clearly  too  childish  to  suit 

41 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


the  tall,  slender,  prettily  rounded  figure — the  mature 
oval  of  the  face,  the  delicately  firm  modelling  of  the 
features. 

This  was  no  child  before  them ;  here  stood  adorable 
adolescence,  a  hint  of  the  awakening  in  the  velvet-brown 
eyes  which  were  long  and  slightly  slanting  at  the  cor 
ners  ;  hints,  too,  in  the  vivid  lips,  in  the  finer  outline 
of  the  profile,  in  faint  bluish  shadows  under  the  eyes, 
edging  the  curved  cheeks'  bloom. 

They  had  not  seen  her  in  two  years  or  more,  and 
she  had  grown  up.  They  had  merely  stepped  down 
town  for  a  hasty  two  years'  glance  at  the  market,  and, 
behind  their  backs,  the  child  had  turned  into  a  woman. 

Hitherto  they  had  addressed  her  as  "  Geraldine  " 
and  "  child,"  when  a  rare  interview  had  been  considered 
necessary.  Now,  two  years  later,  unconsciously,  it  was 
"  Miss  Seagrave,"  and  considerable  embarrassment 
when  the  subject  of  intimate  attire  could  no  longer 
be  avoided. 

But  Geraldine,  unconscious  of  such  things,  broached 
the  question  with  all  the  directness  characteristic  of 
her. 

"  I  am  sorry  I  was  rude  in  my  last  letter,"  she  said 
gravely,  turning  to  Mr.  Tappan.  "  Will  you  please 
forgive  me?  ...  I  am  glad  you  came.  I  do  not  think 
you  understand  that  I  am  no  longer  a  little  girl,  and 
that  things  necessary  for  a  woman  are  necessary  for 
me.  I  want  a  quarterly  allowance.  I  need  what  a 
young  woman  needs.  Will  you  give  these  things  to  me, 
Mr.  Tappan?" 

Mr.  Tappan's  dry  lips  cracked  apart ;  he  swallowed 
grimly  several  times,  then  his  long  bony  fingers  sought 
the  meagre  ends  of  his  black  string  tie : 

"  In  the  cultiwation  of  the  indiwidool,"  he  began 
42 


IN   TRUST 


harshly,  and  checked  himself,  when  Geraldine  flushed 
to  her  ear  tips  and  stamped  her  foot.  Self-control  had 
gone  at  last. 

"  I  won't  listen  to  that !  "  she  said,  breathless ;  "  I've 
listened  to  it  for  ten  years — as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
Answer  me  honestly,  Mr.  Tappan !  Can  I  have  what 
other  women  have — silk  underwear  and  stockings — real 
lace  on  my  night  dresses — and  plenty  of  it  ?  Can  I  have 
suitable  gowns  and  furs,  and  have  my  hair  dressed  prop 
erly  ?  I  want  you  to  answer ;  can  I  make  my  debut  this 
winter  and  have  the  gowns  I  require — and  the  liberty 
that  girls  of  my  age  have?  "  She  turned  on  Colonel 
Mallett :  "  The  liberty  that  Na'ida  has  had  is  all  I  want ; 
the  sort  of  things  you  let  her  have  all  I  ask  for."  And 
appeah'ng  to  Magnelius  Grandcourt,  who  stood  pursing 
his  thick  lips,  puffed  out  like  a  surprised  pouter  pigeon : 
"  Your  daughter  Catherine  has  more  than  I  ask ;  why 
do  you  let  her  have  what  you  consider  bad  for  me? 
Why?  " 

Mr.  Grandcourt  swallowed  several  times,  and  spoke 
in  an  undertone  to  Joshua  Hogg.  But  he  did  not 
reply  to  Geraldine. 

Remsen  Tappan  turned  his  iron  visage  toward  Colo 
nel  Mallett — ignoring  Geraldine's  questions. 

"  In  the  cultiwation  of  the  indiwidool,"  he  began 
again  dauntlessly 

"  Isn't  there  anybody  to  answer  me  ?  "  asked  Ger 
aldine,  turning  from  one  to  another. 

"  Concerning  the  cultiwation " 

"  Answer  me !  "  she  flashed  back.  There  were  tears 
in  her  voice,  but  her  eyes  blazed. 

"  Miss  Seagrave,"  interposed  old  Mr.  Montross 
gravely,  "  I  beg  of  you  to  remember " 

"  Let  him  answer  me  first !  I  asked  him  a  perfectly 
43 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


plain  question.  It — it  is  silly  to  ignore  me  as  though 
I  were  a  foolish  child — as  though  I  didn't  know  my 
mind." 

"  I  think,  Mr.  Tappan,  perhaps  if  you  could  give 
Miss  Seagrave  a  qualified  answer  to  her  questions — 
make  some  preliminary  statement — "  began  Mr.  Cray 
cautiously. 

"  Concerning  what?  "  snapped  Tappan  with  a  grim 
stare. 

"  Concerning  my  stockings  and  my  underwear," 
said  Geraldine  fiercely.  "  I'm  tired  of  dressing  like  a 
servant ! " 

Mr.  Tappan's  rugged  jaw  opened  and  shut  with 
another  snap. 

"  I'm  opposed  to  any  such  innowation,"  he  said. 

"  And — my  coming  out  this  winter?  And  my  quar 
terly  allowance  ?  Answer  me !  " 

"  Time  enough  when  you  turn  twenty-one,  Miss  Sea- 
grave.  Cultiwation  of  mind  concerns  you  now,  not 
cultiwation  of  raiment." 

"  That — that — "  stammered  Geraldine,  "  is  s-su- 
premely  s-silly."  The  tears  reached  her  eyes;  she 
brushed  them  away  angrily. 

Mallett  coughed  and  glanced  at  Myndert  Beekman, 
then  past  the  secretary,  Mr.  Varick,  directly  at  Mr. 
Tappan. 

"  If  you  could  see  your  way  to — ah — accede  to 
some — a  number — perhaps,  in  a  measure,  to  all  of 
Miss  Seagrave's  not  unreasonable  requests,  Mr.  Tap- 
pan " 

He  hesitated,  looked  dubiously  at  Mr.  Montross, 
who  nodded.  Mr.  Cray,  also,  made  an  almost  imper 
ceptible  sign  of  concurrence.  Magnelius  Grandcourt, 
the  sixty-year  enfant  terrible  of  the  company,  dreaded 


I 

I 


-r 
q 


IN   TRUST 


for  his  impulsive  outbursts — though  the  effect  of  these 
outbursts  was  always  very  carefully  considered  before 
hand — stepped  jauntily  across  the  floor,  and  lifting 
Geraldine's  hand  to  his  rather  purplish  lips,  saluted  it 
with  a  flourish. 

"  Oh,  I  say,  Tappan,  let  Miss  Seagrave  have  what 
she  wants ! "  he  exclaimed  with  a  hearty  disregard  of 
caution,  which  outwardly  disturbed  but  inwardly  de 
ceived  nobody  except  Geraldine  and  Mrs.  Severn. 

Colonel  Mallett  thought :  "  The  acquisitive  beast  is 
striking  attitudes  on  his  fool  of  a  son's  account." 

Mr.  Tappan's  small  iron-gray  eyes  bored  two  holes 
through  the  inward  motives  of  Mr.  Grandcourt,  and 
his  mouth  tightened  till  the  seamed  lips  were  merely 
a  line. 

"  I  think,  Magnelius,"  said  Colonel  Mallett  coldly, 
"  that  it  is,  perhaps,  the  sense  of  our  committee  that 
the  time  has  practically  arrived  for  some  change — per 
haps  radical  change — in  the — in  the — ah — the  hith 
erto  exceedingly  wise  regulations " 

"  May  I  have  real  lace  ?  "  cried  Geraldine —  "  Oh, 
I  beg  your  pardon,  Colonel  Mallett,  for  interrupting, 
but  I  was  perfectly  crazy  to  know  what  you  were  going 
to  say." 

Other  people  have  been  crazier  and  endured  more  to 
learn  what  hope  the  verdict  of  ponderous  authority 
might  hold  for  them. 

Colonel  Mallett,  a  trifle  ruffled  at  the  interruption, 
swallowed  several  times  and  then  continued  without 
haste  to  rid  himself  of  a  weighty  opinion  concerning 
the  debut  and  the  petticoats  of  the  Half  Moon's  ward. 
He  might  have  made  the  child  happy  in  one  word.  It 
took  him  twenty  minutes. 

Concurring  opinions  were  then  solemnly  delivered 
45 


by  every  director  in  turn  except  Mr.  Tappan,  who 
spoke  for  half  an  hour,  doggedly  dissenting  on  every 
point. 

But  the  days  of  the  old  regime  were  evidently  num 
bered.  He  understood  it.  He  looked  across  at  the 
crackled  portrait  of  his  old  friend  Anthony  Seagrave; 
the  faded,  painted  features  were  obliterated  in  a  bar 
of  slanting  sunlight. 

So,  concluding  his  dissenting  opinion,  and  having 
done  his  duty,  he  sat  down,  drawing  the  skirts  of  his 
frock-coat  close  around  his  bony  thighs.  He  had  done 
his  best ;  his  reward  was  this  child's  hatred — which 
she  already  forgot  in  the  confused  delight  of  her  sud 
den  liberation. 

Dazed  with  happiness,  to  one  after  another  Geral- 
dine  courtesied  and  extended  the  narrow  childlike  hand 
of  amity — even  to  him.  Then,  as  though  treading  on 
invisible  pink  clouds,  she  floated  out  and  away  up-stairs, 
scarcely  conscious  of  passing  her  brother  on  the  stair 
way,  who  was  now  descending  for  his  turn  before  the 
altar  of  authority. 

When  Scott  returned  he  appeared  to  be  unusually 
red  in  the  face.  Geraldine  seized  him  ecstatically: 

"  Oh,  Scott !  I  am  to  come  out,  after  all — and  I'm 
to  have  my  quarterly,  and  gowns,  and  everything.  I 
could  have  hugged  Mr.  Grandcourt — the  dear!  I  was 
so  frightened — frightened  into  rudeness — and  then  that 
beast  of  a  Tappan  scared  me  terribly.  But  it  is  all 
right  now — and  what  did  they  promise  you,  poor 
dear?  " 

Scott's  face  still  remained  flushed  as  he  stood,  hands 
in  his  pockets,  head  slightly  bent,  tracing  with  the  toe 
of  his  shoe  the  carpet  pattern. 

46 


IN   TRUST 


"  You  want  to  know  what  they  promised  me  ?  "  he 
asked,  looking  up  at  his  sister  with  an  unpleasant 
laugh.  She  poured  a  few  drops  of  cologne  onto  a 
lump  of  sugar,  placed  it  between  her  lips,  and  nodded: 

"They  did  promise  you  something — didn't  they?  " 

"  Oh,  certainly.  They  promised  to  make  it  hot  for 
me  if  I  ever  again  borrowed  money  on  notes." 

"  Scott !  did  you  do  that?  " 

"  Give  my  note  ?  Certainly.  I  needed  money — I've 
told  old  tabby  Tappan  so  again  and  again.  In  a  year 
I'll  have  all  the  money  I  need — so  what's  the  harm  if 
I  borrow  a  little  and  promise  to  pay  when  I'm  of  age  ?  " 

Geraldine  considered  a  moment :  "  It's  curious,"  she 
reflected,  "  but  do  you  know,  Scott,  I  never  thought 
of  doing  that.  It  never  occurred  to  me  to  do  it !  Why 
didn't  you  tell  me?  " 

"  Because,"  said  her  brother  with  an  embarrassed 
laugh,  "  it's  not  exactly  a  proper  thing  to  do,  I  believe. 
Anyway,  they  raised  a  terrible  row  about  it.  Probably 
that's  why  they  have  at  last  given  me  a  decent  quarterly 
allowance ;  they  think  it's  safer,  I  suppose — and  they're 
right.  The  stingy  old  fossils." 

The  boyish  boast,  the  veiled  hint  of  revolt  and  re 
prisal  vaguely  disturbed  Geraldine's  sense  of  justice. 

"  After  all,"  she  said,  "  they  have  meant  to  be  kind. 
They  didn't  know  how,  that's  all.  And,  Scott,  do  let 
us  try  to  be  better  now.  I'm  ashamed  of  my  rudeness 
to  them.  And  I'm  going  to  be  very,  very  good  to 
Kathleen  and  not  do  one  single  thing  to  make  her  un 
happy  or  even  to  bother  Mr.  Tappan.  .  .  .  And,  oh, 
Scott !  my  silks  and  laces !  my  darling  clothes !  All 
is  coming  true!  Do  you  hear?  And,  Scott!  Naida 
and  Duane  are  back  and  I'm  dying  to  see  them.  Duane 
is  twenty-three,  think  of  it ! " 

47 


She  seized  him  and  spun  him  around. 

"  If  you  don't  hug  me  and  tell  me  you're  fond  of  me, 
I  shall  go  mad.  Tell  me  you're  fond  of  me,  Scott !  You 
do  love  me,  don't  you?  " 

He  kissed  his  sister  with  preoccupied  toleration: 
"  Whew !  "  he  said,  "  your  breath  reeks  of  cologne ! 

"  As  for  me,"  he  added,  half  sullenly,  "  I'm  going 
to  have  a  few  things  I  want,  now.  .  .  .  And  do  a  few 
things,  too." 

But  what  these  things  were  he  did  not  specify.  Nor 
did  Geraldine  have  time  to  speculate,  so  occupied  was 
she  now  with  preparations  for  the  wonderful  winter 
which  was  to  come  true  at  last — which  was  already  be 
ginning  to  come  true  with  exciting  visits  to  that  magic 
country  of  brilliant  show-windows  which,  like  an  en 
chanted  city  by  itself,  sparkles  from  Madison  Square  to 
the  Plaza  between  Fourth  Avenue  and  Broadway. 

Into  this  sparkling  metropolitan  zone  she  hastened 
with  Kathleen ;  all  day  long,  week  after  week,  she  flitted 
from  shop  to  shop,  never  satisfied,  always  eager  to  see, 
to  explore.  Yet  two  things  Kathleen  noticed:  Geral 
dine  seemed  perfectly  happy  and  contented  to  view  the 
glitter  of  vanity  fair  without  thought  of  acquiring  its 
treasures  for  herself;  and,  when  reminded  that  she  was 
there  to  buy,  she  appeared  to  be  utterly  ignorant  of 
the  value  of  money,  though  a  childhood  without  it  was 
supposed  to  have  taught  her  its  rarity  and  precious- 
ness. 

The  girl's  personal  tastes  were  expensive ;  she  could 
linger  in  ecstasy  all  the  morning  over  piles  of  wonder 
ful  furs  without  envy,  without  even  thinking  of  them 
for  herself;  but  when  Kathleen  mentioned  the  reason 
of  their  shopping,  Geraldine  always  indicated  sables  as 

48 


IN    TRUST 


her  choice,  any  single  piece  of  which  would  have  re 
quired  half  her  yearly  allowance  to  pay  for. 

And  she  was  for  ever  wishing  to  present  things  to 
Kathleen ;  silks  that  were  chosen,  model  gowns  that 
they  examined  together,  laces,  velvets,  jewels,  always 
her  first  thought  seemed  to  be  that  Kathleen  should 
have  what  they  both  en j  oyed  looking  at  so  ardently ; 
and  many  a  laughing  contest  they  had  as  to  whether 
her  first  quarterly  allowance  should  be  spent  upon  her 
self  or  her  friends. 

On  the  surface  it  would  appear  that  unselfishness 
was  the  key  to  her  character.  That  was  impossible ;  she 
had  lived  too  long  alone.  Yet  Geraldine  was  clearly 
not  acquisitive;  though,  when  she  did  buy,  her  care 
less  extravagance  worried  Kathleen.  Spendthrift — in 
that  she  cared  nothing  for  the  money  value  of  anything 
— her  bright,  piquant,  eager  face  was  a  welcome  sight 
to  the  thrifty  metropolitan  shopkeeper  at  Christmas- 
tide.  A  delicate  madness  for  giving  obsessed  her;  she 
bought  a  pair  of  guns  for  Scott,  laces  and  silks  for 
Kathleen,  and  for  the  servants  everything  she  could 
think  of.  Nobody  was  forgotten,  not  even  Mr.  Tap- 
pan,  who  awoke  Christmas  morning  to  gaze  grimly 
upon  an  antique  jewelled  fob  all  dangling  with  pencils 
and  seals.  In  the  first  flush  of  independence  it  gave 
her  more  pleasure  to  give  than  to  acquire. 

Also,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  she  superintended 
the  distribution  of  her  own  charities,  flying  in  the 
motor  with  Kathleen  from  church  to  mission,  eager, 
curious,  pitiful,  appalled,  by  turns.  Sentiment  over 
whelmed  her ;  it  was  a  new  kind  of  pleasure. 

One  night  she  arose  shivering  from  her  warm  bed, 
and  with  ink  and  paper  sat  figuring  till  nearly  dawn 

49 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


how  best  to  distribute  what  fortune  she  might  one  day 
possess,  and  live  an  exalted  life  on  ten  dollars  a  week. 

Kathleen  found  her  there  asleep,  head  buried  in  the 
scattered  papers,  limbs  icy  to  the  knees ;  and  there  en 
sued  an  interim  of  bronchitis  which  threatened  at  one 
time  to  postpone  her  debut. 

But  the  medical  profession  of  Manhattan  came  to 
the  rescue  in  battalions,  and  Geraldine  was  soon  afoot, 
once  more  drifting  ecstatically  among  the  splendours 
of  the  shops,  thrilling  with  the  nearness  of  the  day 
that  should  set  her  free  among  unnumbered  hosts  of 
unknown  friends. 

Who  would  these  unknown  people  turn  out  to  be? 
What  hearts  were  at  that  very  moment  destined  to 
respond  in  friendship  to  her  own? 

Often  lying  awake,  nibbling  her  scented  lump  of 
sugar,  the  darkness  reddening,  at  intervals,  as  embers 
of  her  bedroom  fire  dropped  glowing  to  the  hearth,  she 
pictured  to  herself  this  vast,  brilliant  throng  awaiting 
to  welcome  her  as  one  of  them.  And  her  imagination 
catching  fire,  through  closed  lids  she  seemed  to  see 
heavenly  vistas  of  youthful  faces — a  thousand  arms 
outstretched  in  welcome;  and  she,  advancing,  eyes  dim 
with  happiness,  giving  herself  to  this  world  of  youth 
and  friendship — crossing  the  threshold — leaving  for 
ever  behind  her  the  past  with  its  loneliness  and  iso 
lation. 

It  was  of  friendships  she  dreamed,  and  the  blessed 
nearness  of  others,  and  the  liberty  to  seek  them.  She 
promised  herself  she  would  never,  never  again  permit 
herself  to  be  alone.  She  had  no  definite  plans,  except 
that.  Life  henceforth  must  be  filled  with  the  bright 
shapes  of  comrades.  Life  must  be  only  pleasure. 
Never  again  must  sadness  come  near  her.  A  miracu- 

50 


IN   TRUST 


lous  capacity  for  happiness  seemed  to  fill  her  breast,  ex 
panding  with  the  fierce  desire  for  it,  until  under  the 
closed  lids  tears  stole  out,  and  there,  in  the  darkness, 
she  held  out  her  bare  arms  to  the  world — the  kind, 
good,  generous,  warm-hearted  world,  which  was  wait 
ing,  just  beyond  her  threshold,  to  welcome  her  and 
love  her  and  companion  her  for  ever. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE    THRESHOLD 

SHE  awoke  tired;  she  had  scarcely  closed  her  eyes 
that  night.  The  fresh  odour  of  roses  filled  her  room 
when  her  maid  arrived  with  morning  gifts  from  Kath 
leen  and  Scott. 

She  lay  abed  until  noon.  They  started  dressing  her 
about  three.  After  that  the  day  became  unreal  to  her. 

Manhattan  was  conventionally  affable  to  Geraldine 
Seagrave,  also  somewhat  curious  to  see  what  she 
looked  like.  Fifth  Avenue  and  the  neighbouring  side 
streets  were  jammed  with  motors  and  carriages  on  the 
bright  January  afternoon  that  Geraldine  made  her 
bow,  and  the  red  and  silver  drawing-rooms,  so  famous  a 
generation  ago,  were  packed  continually. 

What  people  saw  was  a  big,  clumsy  house  expen 
sively  overdecorated  in  the  appalling  taste  of  forty 
years  ago,  now  screened  by  forests  of  palms  and  vast 
banks  of  flowers;  and  they  saw  a  number  of  people 
popularly  identified  with  the  sort  of  society  which  news 
papers  delight  to  revere ;  and  a  few  people  of  real  dis 
tinction;  and  a  young  girl,  noticeably  pale,  standing 
beside  Kathleen  Severn  and  receiving  the  patronage  of 
dowagers  and  beaux,  and  the  impulsive  clasp  of  fellow 
ship  from  fresh-faced  young  girls  and  nice-looking, 
well-mannered  young  fellows. 

The  general  opinion  seemed  to  be  that  Geraldine 
Seagrave  possessed  all  the  beauty  which  rumour  had 

52 


THE   THRESHOLD 


attributed  to  her  as  her  right  by  inheritance,  but  the 
animation  of  her  clever  mother  was  lacking.  Also,  some 
said  that  her  manners  still  smacked  of  the  nursery ;  and 
that,  unless  it  had  been  temporarily  frightened  out  of 
her,  she  had  little  personality  and  less  charm. 

Nothing,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  had  been  frightened 
out  of  her;  for  weeks  she  had  lived  in  imagination  so 
vividly  through  that  day  that  when  the  day  really  ar 
rived  it  found  her  physically  and  mentally  unrespon 
sive;  the  endless  reiteration  of  names  sounded  mean- 
inglessly  in  her  ears,  the  crowding  faces  blurred.  She 
was  passively  satisfied  to  be  there,  and  content  with 
the  touch  of  hands  and  the  pleasant-voiced  formalities 
of  people  pressing  toward  her  from  every  side. 

Afterward  few  impressions  remained;  she  remem 
bered  the  roses'  perfume,  and  a  very  fat  woman  with 
a  confusing  similarity  of  contour  fore  and  aft  who 
blocked  the  lines  and  rattled  on  like  a  machine-gun  say 
ing  dreadfully  frank  things  about  herself,  her  family, 
and  everybody  she  mentioned. 

Nai'da  Mallett,  whom  she  had  not  seen  in  many  years, 
she  had  known  immediately,  and  now  remembered.  And 
Nai'da  had  taken  her  white-gloved  hand  shyly,  whisper 
ing  constrained  formalities,  then  had  disappeared  into 
the  unreality  of  it  all. 

Duane,  her  old  playmate,  may  have  been  there,  but 
she  could  not  remember  having  seen  him.  There  were 
so  many,  many  youths  of  the  New  York  sort,  all 
dressed  alike,  all  resembling  one  another — many,  many 
people  flowing  past  her  where  she  stood  submerged  in 
the  silken  ebb  eddying  around  her. 

These  were  the  few  hazy  impressions  remaining — 
she  was  recalling  them  now  while  dressing  for  her  first 

53 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


dinner  dance.  Later,  when  her  maid  released  her  with 
a  grunt  of  Gallic  disapproval,  she,  distraite,  glanced  at 
her  gown  in  the  mirror,  still  striving  to  recall  some 
thing  definite  of  the  day  before. 

"  Was  Duane  there?  "  she  asked  Kathleen,  who  had 
just  entered. 

"  No,  dear.  .  .  .  Why  did  you  happen  to  think  of 
Duane  Mallett?" 

"  Nai'da  came.  .  .  .  Duane  was  such  a  splendid  lit 
tle  boy.  ...  I  had  hoped " 

Mrs.  Severn  said  coolly: 

"  Duane  isn't  a  very  splendid  man.  I  might  as  well 
tell  you  now  as  later." 

"  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean,  Kathleen  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  people  say  he  was  rather  horrid 
abroad.  Some  women  don't  mind  that  sort  of  thing, 
but  I  do." 

"Horrid?    How?" 

"  He  went  about  Europe  with  unpleasant  people. 
He  had  too  much  money — and  that  is  ruinous  for  a 
boy.  I  hate  to  disillusion  you,  but  for  several  years 
people  have  been  gossipping  about  Duane  Mallett's  ex 
ploits  abroad;  and  they  are  not  savoury." 

"  What  were  they  ?     I  am  old  enough  to  know." 

"  I  don't  propose  to  tell  you.  He  was  notoriously 
wild.  There  were  scandals.  Hush !  here  comes  Scott." 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  pinch  some  colour  into  your 
cheeks ! "  exclaimed  her  brother ;  "  we're  not  going  to 
a  wake ! " 

And  Kathleen  said  anxiously :  "  Your  gown  is  per 
fection,  dear ;  are  you  a  trifle  tired?  You  do  look  pale." 

"  Tired  ?  "  repeated  Geraldine — "  not  in  the  least, 
dearest.  ...  If  I  seem  not  to  be  excited,  I  really  am, 
internally;  but  perhaps  I  haven't  learned  how  to  show 

54 


THE    THRESHOLD 


it.  ...  Don't  I  look  well?  I  was  so  preoccupied  with 
my  gown  in  the  mirror  that  I  forgot  to  examine  my 
face." 

Mrs.  Severn  kissed  her.  "  You  and  your  gown  are 
charming.  Come,  we  are  late,  and  that  isn't  permitted 
to  debutantes." 

It  was  Mrs.  Magnelius  Grandcourt  who  was  giving 
the  first  dinner  and  dance  for  Geraldine  Seagrave.  In 
the  cloak-room  she  encountered  some  very  animated 
women  of  the  younger  married  set,  who  spoke  to  her 
amiably,  particularly  a  Mrs.  Dysart,  who  said  she 
knew  Duane  Mallett,  and  who  was  so  friendly  that  a 
bit  of  colour  warmed  Geraldine's  pallid  cheeks  and  still 
remained  there  when,  a  few  minutes  later,  she  saluted 
her  heavily  jewelled  hostess  and  recognised  in  her  the 
fat  fore-and-aft  lady  of  the  day  before. 

Mrs.  Magnelius  Grandcourt,  glittering  like  a 
South  American  scarab,  detained  her  with  the  smallest 
and  chubbiest  hands  she  had  ever  seen  inside  of  gloves. 

"  My  dear,  you  look  ghastly,"  said  her  hostess. 
"  You're  probably  scared  to  death.  This  is  my  son, 
Delancy,  who  is  going  to  take  you  in,  and  I'm  wonder 
ing  about  you,  because  Delancy  doesn't  get  on  with 
debutantes,  but  that  can't  be  helped.  If  he's  pig 
enough  not  to  talk  to  you,  it  wouldn't  surprise  me — 
and  it's  just  as  well,  too,  for  if  he  likes  anybody  he 
compromises  them,  but  it's  no  use  your  ever  liking  a 
Grandcourt,  for  all  the  men  make  rotten  husbands — 
I'm  glad  Rosalie  Dysart  threw  him  over  for  poor  Jack 
Dysart ;  it  saved  her  a  divorce !  I'd  get  one  if  I  could ; 
so  would  Magnelius.  My  husband  was  a  judge  once, 
but  he  resigned  because  he  couldn't  send  people  up  for 
the  things  he  was  doing  himself." 
5  55 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


Mrs.  Grandcourt,  still  gabbling  away,  turned  to 
greet  new  arrivals,  merely  switching  to  another  sub 
ject  without  interrupting  her  steady  stream  of  out 
rageous  talk.  She  was  celebrated  for  it — and  for  noth 
ing  else. 

Geraldine,  bewildered  and  a  little  horrified,  looked 
at  her  billowy,  bediamonded  hostess,  then  at  young  De- 
lancy  Grandcourt,  who,  not  perceptibly  abashed  by  his 
mother's  left-handed  compliments,  lounged  beside  her, 
apparently  on  the  verge  of  a  yawn. 

"  My  mother  says  things,"  he  explained  patiently ; 
"  nobody  minds  'em.  .  .  .  Shall  we  exchange  nonsense 
— or  would  you  rather  save  yourself  until  dinner?  " 

"  Save  myself  what  ?  "  she  asked  nervously. 

"  The  nuisance  of  talking  to  me  about  nothing. 
I'm  not  clever." 

Geraldine  reddened. 

"  I  don't  usually  talk  about  nothing." 

'*  I  do,"  he  said.     "  I  never  have  much  to  say." 

"  Is  that  because  you  don't  like  debutantes  ?  "  she 
asked  coldly. 

"  It's  because  they  don't  care  about  me.  ...  If 
you  would  talk  to  me,  I'd  really  be  grateful." 

He  flushed  and  stepped  back  awkwardly  to  allow 
room  for  a  slim,  handsome  man  to  pass  between  them. 
The  very  ornamental  man  did  not  pass,  however,  but 
calmly  turned  toward  Geraldine,  and  began  to  talk  to 
her. 

She  presently  discovered  his  name  to  be  Dysart; 
and  she  also  discovered  that  Mr.  Dysart  didn't  know 
her  name;  and,  for  a  moment  after  she  had  told  him, 
surprise  and  a  confused  sense  of  resentment  silenced 
her,  because  she  was  quite  certain  now  that  they  had 
never  been  properly  presented. 

56 


THE    THRESHOLD 


That  negligence  of  conventions  was  not  unusual  in 
this  new  world  she  was  entering,  she  had  already  no 
ticed;  and  this  incident  was  evidently  another  example 
of  custom  smilingly  ignored.  She  looked  up  ques- 
tioningly,  and  Dysart,  instantly  divining  the  trouble, 
laughed  in  his  easy,  attractive  fashion — the  fashion  he 
usually  affected  with  women. 

"  You  seemed  so  fresh  and  cool  and  sweet  all  alone 
in  this  hot  corner  that  I  simply  couldn't  help  coming 
over  to  hear  whether  your  voice  matched  the  ensemble. 
And  it  surpasses  it.  Are  you  going  to  be  resentful?  " 

"  I'm  too  ignorant  to  be — or  to  laugh  about  it  as 
you  do.  ...  Is  it  becau  e  I  look  a  simpleton  that  you 
come  to  see  if  I  really  am?  " 

"  Are  you  planning  to  punish  me,  Miss  Seagrave?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  I  don't  know  how/' 

"  Fate  will,  anyway,  unless  I  am  placed  next  you 
at  dinner,"  he  said  with  his  most  reassuring  smile,  and 
rose  gracefully. 

"  I'm  going  to  fix  it,"  he  added,  and,  pushing  his 
way  toward  his  hostess,  disappeared  in  the  crush. 

Later  young  Grandcourt  reappeared  from  the 
crush  to  take  her  in.  Every  table  seated  eight,  and, 
sure  enough,  as  she  turned  involuntarily  to  glance  at 
her  neighbour  on  the  right,  it  was  Dysart's  pale  face, 
cleanly  cut  as  a  cameo,  that  met  her  gaze.  He  nodded 
back  to  her  with  unfeigned  satisfaction  at  his  own 
success. 

"  That's  the  way  to  manage,"  he  said,  "  when  you 
want  a  thing  very  much.  Isn't  it,  Miss  Seagrave  ?  " 

"  You  did  not  ask  me  whether  I  wanted  it,"  she 
said. 

"  Don't  you  want  me  here  ?  If  you  don't — "  His 
features  fell  and  he  made  a  pretence  of  rising.  His 

57 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


pale,  beautifully  sculptured  face  had  become  so  fear 
fully  serious  that  she  coloured  up  quickly. 

"  Oh,  you  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing — now !  to  em 
barrass  me." 

"  Yes,  I  would — I'd  do  anything  desperate." 

But  she  had  already  caught  the  flash  of  mischief, 
and  realising  that  he  had  been  taking  more  or  less  for 
granted  in  tormenting  her,  looked  down  at  her  plate 
and  presently  tasted  what  was  on  it. 

"  I  know  you  are  not  oifended,"  he  murmured. 
"Are  you?" 

She  knew  she  was  not,  too;  but  she  merely 
shrugged.  "  Then  why  do  you  ask  me,  Mr.  Dysart?  " 

"  Because  you  have  such  pretty  shoulders,"  he  re 
plied  seriously. 

"  What  an  idiotic  reply  to  make !  " 

"  Why  ?    Don't  you  think  you  have  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  Pretty  shoulders." 

"  I  don't  think  anything  about  my  shoulders ! " 

"  You  would  if  there  was  anything  the  matter  with 
them,"  he  insisted. 

Once  or  twice  he  turned  his  handsome  dark  gaze  on 
her  while  she  was  dissecting  her  terrapin. 

"  They  tip  up  a  little — at  the  corners,  don't  they  ?  " 
he  inquired  anxiously.  "  Does  it  hurt  ?  " 

"  Tip  up  ?     What  tips  up  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Your  eyes." 

She  swung  around  toward  him,  confused  and  exas 
perated;  but  no  seriousness  was  proof  against  the  de 
lighted  malice  in  Dysart's  face;  and  she  laughed  a  lit 
tle,  and  laughed  again  when  he  did.  And  she  thought 
that  he  was,  perhaps,  the  handsomest  man  she  had  ever 
seen.  All  debutantes  did. 

58 


THE    THRESHOLD 


Young  Grandcourt  turned  from  the  pretty,  over- 
painted  woman  who,  until  that  moment,  had  apparently 
held  him  interested  when  his  food  failed  to  monop 
olise  his  attention,  and  glanced  heavily  around  at 
Geraldine. 

All  he  saw  was  the  back  of  her  head  and  shoulders. 
Evidently  she  was  not  missing  him.  Evidently,  too,  she 
was  having  a  very  good  time  with  Dysart. 

"  What  are  you  laughing  about  ?  "  he  asked  wist 
fully,  leaning  forward  to  see  her  face. 

Geraldine  glanced  back  across  her  shoulder. 

"  Mr.  Dysart  is  trying  to  be  impertinent,"  she  re 
plied  carelessly;  and  returned  again  to  the  imperti 
nent  one,  quite  ready  for  more  torment  now  that  she 
began  to  understand  how  agreeable  it  was. 

But  Dysart's  expression  had  changed ;  there  was 
something  vaguely  caressing  in  voice  and  manner  as  he 
murmured : 

"  Do  you  know  there  is  something  almost  divine  in 
your  face." 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  Geraldine,  looking  up 
from  her  ice  in  its  nest  of  spun  sugar. 

"  You  so  strenuously  rej  ect  the  truthful  compli 
ments  I  pay  you,  that  perhaps  I'd  better  not  repeat 
this  one." 

"  Was  it  really  more  absurd  flattery  ?  " 

"  No,  never  mind.  .  .  ."  He  leaned  back  in  his 
chair,  absently  turning  the  curious,  heavily  chiselled 
ring  on  his  little  finger,  but  every  few  moments  his  ex 
pressive  eyes  reverted  to  her.  She  was  eating  her  ice 
with  all  the  frank  enjoyment  of  a  schoolgirl. 

"  Do  you  know,  Miss  Seagrave,  that  you  and  I  are 
really  equipped  for  better  things  than  talking  non 
sense." 

59 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  know  that  I  am,"  she  observed.  ..."  Isn't  this 
spun  sugar  delicious !  " 

"  Yes ;  and  so  are  you." 

But  she  pretended  not  to  hear. 

He  laughed,  then  fell  silent ;  his  dreamy  gaze  shifted 
from  vacancy  to  her — and,  casually,  across  the  room, 
where  it  settled  lightly  as  a  butterfly  on  his  wife,  and 
there  it  poised  for  a  moment's  inexpressive  examina 
tion.  Scott  Seagrave  was  talking  to  Rosalie;  she  did 
not  notice  her  husband. 

After  that,  with  easy  nonchalance  approaching  im 
pudence,  he  turned  to  his  own  neglected  dinner  partner, 
Sylvia  Quest,  who  received  his  tardy  attentions  with 
childish  irritation.  She  didn't  know  any  better.  And 
there  was  now  no  time  to  patch  up  matters,  for  the 
signal  to  rise  had  been  given  and  Dysart  took  Sylvia 
to  the  door  with  genuine  relief.  She  bored  him  dread 
fully  since  she  had  become  sentimental  over  him.  They 
always  did. 

Lounging  back  through  the  rising  haze  of  tobacco- 
smoke  he  encountered  Peter  Tappan  and  stopped  to 
exchange  a  word. 

"  Dancing  ?  "  he  inquired,  lighting  his  cigarette. 

Tappan  nodded.  "  You,  too,  of  course."  For 
Dysart  was  one  of  those  types  known  in  society  as  a 
"  dancing  man."  He  also  led  cotillions,  and  a  morally 
blameless  life  as  far  as  the  more  virile  Commandments 
were  concerned. 

He  said :  "  That  little  Seagrave  girl  is  rather  fetch- 
ing." 

Tappan  answered  indifferently: 

"  She  resembles  the  general  run  of  this  year's  out 
put.  She's  weedy.  They  all  ought  to  marry  before 
they  go  about  to  dinners,  anyway." 

60 


THE   THRESHOLD 


"  Marry  whom  ?  " 

"  Anybody  —  Delancy,  here,  for  instance.  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  that  no  woman  is  possible  unless 
she's  married,"  yawned  Tappan.  "  Isn't  that  so,  De 
lancy  ?  "  clapping  Grandcourt  on  the  shoulder. 

Grandcourt  said  "  yes,"  to  be  rid  of  him ;  but  Dy- 
sart  turned  around  with  his  usual  smile  of  amused  con 
tempt. 

"  You  think  so,  too,  Delancy,"  he  said,  "  because 
what  is  obvious  and  ready-made  appeals  to  you.  You 
think  as  you  eat — heavily — and  you  miss  a  few  things. 
That  little  Seagrave  girl  is  charming.  But  you'd  never 
discover  it." 

Grandcourt  slowly  removed  the  fat  cigar  from  his 
lips,  rolled  it  meditatively  between  thick  forefinger  and 
thumb : 

"  Do  you  know,  Jack,  that  you've  been  saying  that 
sort  of  thing  to  me  for  a  number  of  years?  " 

"  Yes;  and  it's  just  as  true  now  as  it  ever  was,  old 
fellow." 

"  That  may  be ;  but  did  it  ever  occur  to  you  that 
I  might  get  tired  hearing  it.  ...  And  might,  pos 
sibly,  resent  it  some  day  ?  " 

For  a  long  time  Dysart  had  been  uncomfortably 
conscious  that  Grandcourt  had  had  nearly  enough  of 
his  half-sneering,  half-humourous  frankness.  His  lik 
ing  for  Grandcourt,  even  as  a  schoolboy,  had  invari 
ably  been  tinged  with  tolerance  and  good-humoured 
contempt.  Dysart  had  always  led  in  everything ;  taken 
what  he  chose  without  considering  Grandcourt — some 
times  out  of  sheer  perversity,  he  had  taken  what  Grand- 
court  wanted — not  really  wanting  it  himself — as  in  the 
case  of  Rosalie  Dene. 

"  What  are  you  talking  about  resenting  ? — my 
61 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


monopolising  your  dinner  partner? "  asked  Dysart, 
smiling.  "  Take  her ;  amuse  yourself.  I  don't  want 
her." 

Grandcourt  inspected  his  cigar  again.  "  I'm  tired 
of  that  sort  of  thing,  too,"  he  said. 

"What  sort  of  thing?" 

"  Contenting  myself  with  what  you  don't  want." 

Dysart  lit  a  cigarette,  still  smiling,  then  shrugged 
and  turned  as  though  to  go.  Around  them  through  the 
smoke  rose  the  laughing  clamour  of  young  men  gather 
ing  at  the  exit. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  said  Grandcourt 
heavily.  "  I'm  an  ass  to  do  it,  but  I  want  to  tell  you." 

Dysart  halted  patiently. 

"  It's  this,"  went  on  Grandcourt :  "  between  you 
and  my  mother,  I've  never  had  a  chance ;  she  makes  me 
out  a  fool  and  you  have  always  assumed  it  to  be  true." 

Dysart  glanced  at  him  with  amused  contempt. 

A  heavy  flush  rose  to  Grandcourt's  cheek-bones. 
He  said  slowly: 

"  I  want  my  chance.  You  had  better  let  me  have  it 
when  it  comes." 

"  What  chance  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean — a  woman.  All  my  life  you've  been  at 
my  elbow  to  step  in.  You  took  what  you  wanted — 
your  shadow  always  falls  between  me  and  anybody  I'm 
inclined  to  like.  ...  It  happened  to-night — as  usual. 
.  .  .  And  I  tell  you  now,  at  last,  I'm  tired  of  it." 

"  What  a  ridiculous  idea  you  seem  to  have  of  me," 
began  Dysart,  laughing. 

"  I'm  afraid  of  you.  I  always  was.  Now — let  me 
alone ! " 

"  Have  you  ever  known  me,  since  I've  been  mar 
ried — "  He  caught  Grandcourt's  eye,  stammered,  and 

62 


THE   THRESHOLD 


stopped  short.  Then :  "  You  certainly  are  absurd.  De- 
lancy!  I  wouldn't  deliberately  interfere  with  you  or 
disturb  a  young  girl's  peace  of  mind.  The  trouble  with 
you  is " 

"  The  trouble  with  you  is  that  women  take  to  you 
very  quickly,  and  you  are  always  trying  to  see  how  far 
you  can  arouse  their  interest.  What's  the  use  of  risk 
ing  heartaches  to  satisfy  curiosity?  " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  have  heartaches ! "  said  Dysart,  in 
tensely  amused. 

"  I  wasn't  thinking  of  you.  I  suppose  that's  the 
reason  you  find  it  amusing.  .  .  .  Not  that  I  think 
there's  any  real  harm  in  you " 

"  Thanks,"  laughed  Dysart ;  "  it  only  needed  that 
remark  to  damn  me  utterly.  Now  go  and  dance  with 
little  Miss  Seagrave,  and  don't  worry  about  my  trying 
to  interfere." 

Grandcourt  looked  sullenly  at  him.  "  I'm  sorry  I 
spoke,  now,"  he  said.  "  I  never  know  enough  to  hold 
my  tongue  to  you." 

He  turned  bulkily  on  his  heel  and  left  the  dining- 
hall.  There  were  others,  in  throngs,  leaving — young, 
eager-faced  fellows,  with  a  scattering  of  the  usual 
"  dancing "  men  on  whom  everybody  could  always 
count,  and  a  few  middle-aged  gentlemen  and  women  of 
the  younger  married  set  to  give  stability  to  what  was, 
otherwise,  a  debutante's  affair. 

Dysart,  strolling  about,  booked  a  dance  or  two, 
performed  creditably,  made  his  peace,  for  the  sake  of 
peace,  with  Sylvia  Quest,  whose  ignorant  heart  had 
been  partly  awakened  under  his  idle  investigations. 
But  this  was  Sylvia's  second  season,  and  she  would  no 
doubt  learn  several  things  of  which  she  heretofore  had 
been  unaware.  Just  at  present,  however,  her  heart  was 
6  63 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


very  full,  and  life's  outlook  was  indeed  tragic  to  a 
young  girl  who  believed  herself  wildly  in  love  with  a 
married  man,  and  who  employed  all  her  unhappy  wits 
in  the  task  of  concealing  it. 

A  load  of  guilt  lay  upon  her  soul;  the  awful  fact 
that  she  adored  him  frightened  her  terribly;  that  she 
could  not  keep  away  from  him  terrified  her  still  more. 
But  most  of  all  she  dreaded  that  he  might  guess  her 
secret. 

"  I  don't  know  why  you  thought  I  minded  your  not 
— not  talking  to  me  during  dinner,"  she  faltered.  "  I 
was  having  a  perfectly  heavenly  time  with  Peter  Tap- 
pan." 

"  Do  you  mean  that? "  murmured  Dysart.  He 
could  not  help  playing  his  part,  even  when  it  no  longer 
interested  him.  To  murmur  was  as  natural  to  him  as 
to  breathe. 

She  looked  up  piteously.  "  I  would  rather  have 
talked  to  you,"  she  said.  "  Peter  Tappan  is  only  an 
overgrown  boy.  If  you  had  really  cared  to  talk  to 
me — "  She  checked  herself,  flushing  deeply. 

O  Lord!  he  thought,  contemplating  in  the  girl's 
lifted  eyes  the  damage  he  had  not  really  expected  to 
do.  For  it  had,  as  usual,  surprised  him  to  realise, 
too  late,  how  dangerous  it  is  to  say  too  much,  and 
look  too  long,  and  how  easy  it  is  to  awaken  hearts 
asleep. 

Dancing  was  to  be  general  before  the  cotillion.  Syl 
via  would  have  given  him  as  many  dances  as  he  asked 
for ;  he  danced  once  with  her  as  a  great  treat,  resolving 
never  to  experiment  any  more  with  anybody.  .  .  . 
True,  it  might  have  been  amusing  to  see  how  far  he 
could  have  interested  the  little  Seagrave  girl — but  he 
would  renounce  that;  he'd  keep  away  from  everybody. 

64 


THE   THRESHOLD 


But  Dysart  could  no  more  avoid  making  eyes  at 
anything  in  petticoats  than  he  could  help  the  tender 
ness  of  his  own  smile  or  the  caressing  cadence  of  his 
voice,  or  the  subtle,  indefinite  something  in  him  which 
irritated  men  but  left  few  women  indifferent  and  some 
greatly  perturbed  as  he  strolled  along  on  his  amusing 
journey  through  the  world. 

He  was  strolling  on  now,  having  managed  to  leave 
Sylvia  planted ;  and  presently,  without  taking  any  par 
ticular  trouble  to  find  Geraldine,  discovered  her  event 
ually  as  the  centre  of  a  promising  circle  of  men,  very 
young  men  and  very  old  men — nothing  medium  and  de 
sirable  as  yet. 

For  a  while,  amused,  Dysart  watched  her  at  her 
first  party.  Clearly  she  was  inexperienced ;  she  let  these 
men  have  their  own  way  and  their  own  say ;  she  was  not 
handling  them  skilfully ;  yet  there  seemed  to  be  a  charm 
about  this  young  girl  that  detached  man  after  man 
from  the  passing  throng  and  added  them  to  her  circle — 
which  had  now  become  a  half  circle,  completely  corner 
ing  her. 

Animated,  shyly  confident,  brilliant-eyed,  and  flushed 
with  the  excitement  of  attracting  so  much  attention,  she 
was  beginning  to  lose  her  head  a  little — just  a  little. 
Dysart  noticed  it  in  her  nervous  laughter;  in  a  slight 
exaggeration  of  gesture  with  fan  and  flowers;  in  the 
quick  movement  of  her  restless  little  head,  as  though 
it  were  incumbent  upon  her  to  give  to  every  man  con 
fronting  her  his  own  particular  modicum  of  attention 
— which  was  not  like  a  debutante,  either;  and  Dysart 
realised  that  she  was  getting  on. 

So  he  sauntered  up,  breaking  through  the  circle, 
and  reminded  Geraldine  of  a  dance  she  had  not  prom 
ised  him. 

65 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


She  knew  she  had  not  promised,  but  she  was  quite 
ready  to  give  it — had  already  opened  her  lips  to  assent 
— when  a  young  man,  passing,  swung  around  abruptly 
as  though  to  speak  to  her,  hesitating  as  Geraldine's 
glance  encountered  his  without  recognition. 

But,  as  he  started  to  move  on,  she  suddenly  knew 
him;  and  at  the  same  moment  Kathleen's  admonition 
rang  in  her  ears.  Her  own  voice  drowned  it. 

"  Oh,  Duane ! "  she  exclaimed,  stretching  out  her 
hand  across  Dysart's  line  of  advance. 

"  You  are  Geraldine  Seagrave,  are  you  not  ?  "  he 
asked  smilingly,  retaining  her  hand  in  such  a  manner 
as  practically  to  compel  her  to  step  past  Dysart  toward 
him. 

"  Of  course  I  am.  You  might  have  known  me  had 
you  been  amiable  enough  to  appear  at  my  coming 
out." 

He  laughed  easily,  still  retaining  her  hand  and  look 
ing  down  at  her  from  his  inch  or  two  of  advantage. 
Then  he  casually  inspected  Dysart,  who,  not  at  all 
pleased,  returned  his  gaze  with  a  careless  unconcern 
verging  on  offence.  Few  men  cared  for  Dysart  on  first 
inspection — or  on  later  acquaintance;  Mallett  was  no 
exception. 

Geraldine  said,  with  smiling  constraint: 

"  It  has  been  so  very  jolly  to  see  you  again."  And 
withdrew  her  hand,  adding :  "  I  hope — some  time " 

"  Won't  you  let  me  talk  to  you  now  for  a  moment 
or  two?  You  are  not  going  to  dismiss  me  with  that 
sort  of  come-back — after  all  these  years — are  you?  " 

He  seemed  so  serious  about  it  that  the  girl  col 
oured  up. 

"  I — that  is,  Mr.  Dysart  was  going  to — to — "  She 
turned  and  looked  at  Dysart,  who  remained  planted 

66 


THE    THRESHOLD 


where  she  had  left  him,  exceedingly  wroth  at  experi 
encing  the  sort  of  casual  treatment  he  had  so  often 
meted  out  to  others.  His  expression  was  peevish.  Ger- 
aldine,  confused,  began  hurriedly  : 

"  I  thought  Mr.  Dysart  meant  to  ask  me  to 
dance." 

"  Meant  to  ?  "  interrupted  Mallett,  laughing ;  "  / 
mean  to  ask  for  this  dance,  and  I  do." 

Once  more  she  turned  and  encountered  Dysart's 
darkening  gaze,  hesitated,  then  with  a  nervous,  gay 
little  gesture  to  him,  partly  promise,  partly  adieu,  she 
took  Mallett's  arm. 

It  was  the  first  glimmer  of  coquetry  she  had  ever 
deliberately  displayed;  and  at  the  same  instant  she  be 
came  aware  that  something  new  had  been  suddenly 
awakened  in  her — something  which  stole  like  a  glow 
through  her  veins,  exciting  her  with  its  novelty. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  you  have  taken  me 
forcibly  away  from  an  exceedingly  nice  man  ?  " 

"  I  don't  care." 

"  Oh — but  might  I  not  at  least  have  been  con 
sulted?" 

"  Didn't  you  want  to  come  ?  "  he  asked,  stopping 
short.  There  was  something  overbearing  in  his  voice 
and  his  straight,  unwavering  gaze. 

She  didn't  know  how  to  take  it,  how  to  meet  it. 
Voice  and  manner  required  some  proper  response  which 
seemed  to  be  beyond  her  experience. 

She  did  not  answer;  but  a  slight  pressure  of  her 
bare  arm  set  him  in  motion  again. 

The  phenomenon  interested  her ;  to  see  what  control 
over  this  abrupt  young  man  she  really  had  she  ventured 
a  very  slight  retrograde  arm-pressure,  then  a  delicate 
touch  to  right,  to  left,  and  forward  once  more.  It  was 

67 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


most  interesting;  he  backed  up,  guided  right  and  left, 
and  started  forward  or  halted  under  perfect  control. 
What  had  she  been  afraid  of  in  him?  She  ventured  to 
glance  around,  and,  encountering  a  warmly  personal 
interest  in  his  gaze,  instantly  assumed  that  cold,  blank, 
virginal  mask  which  the  majority  of  young  girls  dis 
card  at  her  age. 

However,  her  long-checked  growth  in  the  arts  of 
womanhood  had  already  recommenced.  She  had  been 
growing  fast,  feverishly,  and  was  just  now  passing  that 
period  where  the  desire  for  masculine  admiration  inno 
cently  rules  all  else,  but  where  the  discovery  of  it  chills 
and  constrains. 

She  passed  it  at  that  moment.  The  next  time  their 
glances  met  she  smiled  a  little.  A  new  epoch  in  her 
life  had  begun. 

"  Where  are  you  taking  me?  "  she  asked.  "  Are  we 
not  going  to  dance?  " 

"  I  thought  we  might  sit  out  a  dance  or  two  in  the 
conservatory — one  or  two " 

"  One,"  she  said  decidedly.  "  Here  are  some  palms. 
Why  not  sit  here?  " 

There  were  a  number  of  people  about ;  she  saw  them, 
too,  noted  his  hesitation,  understood  it. 

"  We'll  sit  here,"  she  said,  and  stood  smilingly  re 
garding  him  while  he  lugged  up  two  chairs  to  the  most 
retired  corner. 

Slowly  waving  her  fan,  she  seated  herself  and  sur 
veyed  the  room. 

It  is  quite  true  that  reunion  after  many  years  usu 
ally  ends  in  constraint  and  indifference.  If  she  felt 
slightly  bored,  she  certainly  looked  it.  Neither  of  them 
resembled  the  childish  recollections  or  preconceived  no 
tions  of  the  other.  They  found  themselves  inspecting 

68 


THE    THRESHOLD 


one  another  askance,  as  though  furtively  attempting  to 
surprise  some  familiar  feature,  some  resemblance  to  a 
cherished  memory. 

But  the  changes  were  too  radical ;  their  eyes,  looking 
for  old  comrades,  encountered  the  unremembered  eyes 
of  strangers — for  they  were  strangers — this  tall  young 
man,  with  his  gray  eyes,  pleasantly  fashioned  mouth, 
and  cleanly  moulded  cheeks ;  and  this  long-limbed  girl, 
who  sat,  knees  crossed,  one  long,  slim  foot  nervously 
swinging  above  its  shadow  on  the  floor. 

In  spite  of  his  youth  there  was  in  his  manner,  if 
not  in  his  voice,  something  tinged  with  fatigue.  She 
thought  of  what  Kathleen  had  said  about  him;  looked 
up,  instinctively  questioning  him  with  curious,  uncom 
prehending  eyes ;  then  her  gaze  wandered,  became  lost 
in  smiling  retrospection  as  she  thought  of  Dysart, 
peevish;  and  she  frankly  regretted  him  and  his  dance. 

Young  Mallett  stirred,  passed  a  rather  bony  hand 
over  his  shaven  upper  lip,  and  said  abruptly :  "  I  never 
expected  you'd  grow  up  like  this.  You've  turned  into 
a  different  kind  of  girl.  Once  you  were  chubby  of 
cheek  and  limb.  Do  you  remember  how  you  used  to 
fight?" 

"Did  I?" 

"  Certainly.  You  hit  me  twice  in  the  eye  because 
I  lost  my  temper  sparring  with  Scott.  Your  hands 
were  small  but  heavy  in  those  days.  ...  I  imagine 
they're  heavier  now." 

She  laughed,  clasped  both  pretty  hands  over  her 
knee,  and  tilted  back  against  the  palm,  regarding  him 
from  dark,  velvety  eyes. 

"  You  were  a  curiously  fascinating  child,"  he  said. 
"  I  remember  how  fast  you  could  run,  and  how  your 
hair  flew — it  was  thick  and  dark,  with  rather  sunny 

69 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


high  lights ;  and  you  were  always  running — always  on 
the  go.  .  .  .  You  were  a  remarkably  just  girl;  that  I 
remember.  You  were  absolutely  fair  to  everybody." 

"  I  was  a  very  horrid  little  scrub,"  she  said,  watch 
ing  him  over  her  gently  waving  fan,  "  with  a  dreadful 
temper,"  she  added. 

"  Have  you  it  now  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  get  over  it  quickly.  Do  you  find  Scott 
very  much  changed?  " 

"  Well,  not  as  much  as  you.  Do  you  find  Nai'da 
changed? " 

"  Not  nearly  as  much  as  you." 

They  smiled.  The  slight  embarrassment  born  of 
polite  indifference  brightened  into  amiable  interest, 
tinctured  by  curiosity. 

"  Duane,  have  you  been  studying  painting  all  these 
years  ?  " 

"  Yes.    What  have  you  been  doing  all  these  years  ?  " 

"  Nothing."  A  shadow  fell  across  her  face.  "  It 
has  been  lonely — until  recently.  I  began  to  live  yes 
terday." 

"  You  used  to  tell  me  you  were  lonely,"  he  nodded. 

"  I  was.  You  and  Nai'da  were  godsends."  Some 
thing  of  the  old  thrill  stirred  her  recollection.  She 
leaned  forward,  looking  at  him  curiously ;  the  old  mem 
ory  of  him  was  already  lending  him  something  of  the 
forgotten  glamour. 

"  How  tall  you  are !  "  she  said ;  "  how  much  thinner 
and — how  very  impressively  grown-up  you  are,  Duane. 
I  didn't  expect  you  to  be  entirely  a  man  so  soon — with 
such  a — an  odd — expression " 

He  asked,  smiling :  "  What  kind  of  an  expression 
have  I,  Geraldine  ?  " 

"  Not  a  boyish  one ;  entirely  a  man's  eyes  and  mouth 
70 


THE    THRESHOLD 


and  voice — a  little  too  wise,  as  though,  deep  inside,  you 
were  tired  of  something;  no,  not  exactly  that,  but  as 
though  you  had  seen  many  things  and  had  lived  some 
of  them " 

She  checked  herself,  lips  softly  apart ;  and  the  mem 
ory  of  what  she  had  heard  concerning  him  returned 
to  her. 

Confused,  she  continued  to  laugh  lightly,  adding: 
"  I  believe  I  was  afraid  of  you  at  first.  Ought  I  to  be, 
still?  You  know  more  than  I  do — you  know  different 
kinds  of  things:  your  face  and  voice  and  manner  show 
it.  I  feel  humble  and  ignorant  in  the  presence  of  so 
distinguished  a  European  artist." 

They  were  laughing  together  now  without  a  trace 
of  constraint ;  and  she  was  aware  that  his  interest  in 
her  was  unfeigned  and  unmistakably  the  interest  of  a 
man  for  a  woman,  that  he  was  looking  at  her  as  other 
men  had  now  begun  to  look  at  her,  speaking  as  other 
men  spoke,  frankly  interested  in  her  as  a  woman,  find 
ing  her  agreeable  to  look  af  and  talk  to. 

In  the  unawakened  depths  of  her  a  conviction  grew 
that  her  old  playmate  must  be  classed  with  other  men 
— man  in  the  abstract — that  indefinite  and  interesting 
term,  hinting  of  pleasures  to  come  and  possibilities 
unimagined. 

"  Did  you  paint  pictures  all  the  time  you  were 
abroad  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Not  every  minute.  I  travelled  a  lot,  went  about, 
was  asked  to  shoot  in  England  and  Austria.  ...  I  had 
a  good  time." 

"  Didn't  you  work  hard?  " 

"  No.     Isn't  it  disgraceful !  " 

"  But  you  exhibited  in  three  salons.  What  were 
your  pictures  ?  " 

71 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  did  a  portrait  of  Lady  Bylow  and  her  ten  chil 
dren." 

"  Was  it  a  success  ?  " 

He  coloured.     "  They  gave  me  a  second  medal." 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad !  "  she  exclaimed  warmly.  "  And 
what  were  your  others?  " 

"  A  thing  caUed  '  The  Witch.'    Rather  painful." 

"What  was  it?" 

"  Life  size.  A  young  girl  arrested  in  bed.  Her 
frightened  beauty  is  playing  the  deuce  with  the  people 
around.  I  don't  know  why  I  did  it — the  painting  of 
textures — her  flesh,  and  the  armour  of  the  Puritan 
guard,  the  fur  of  the  black  cat — and — well,  it  was  aca 
demic  and  I  was  young." 

"  Did  they  reward  you  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  What  was  the  third  picture  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  a  girl,"  he  said  carelessly. 

"  Did  they  give  you  a  prize  for  it  ?  " 

"  Y-yes.    Only  a  mention." 

"Was  it  a  portrait?" 

"  Yes — in  a  way." 

"  What  was  it?     Just  a  girl?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Who  was  she?" 

"  Oh,  just  a  girl " 

"Was  she  pretty?" 

"  Yes.     Shall  we  dance  this  next " 

"No.     Was  she  a  model?" 

"  She  posed " 

Geraldine,  lips  on  the  edge  of  her  spread  fan,  re 
garded  him  curiously. 

"  That  is  a  very  romantic  life,  isn't  it?  "  she  mur 
mured. 

72 


THE    THRESHOLD 


"What?" 

"  Yours.  I  don't  know  much  about  it ;  Kathleen 
took  me  to  hear  *  La  Boheme ' ;  and  I  found  Murger's 
story  in  the  library.  I  have  also  read  '  Trilby.'  Did 
you — were  you — was  life  like  that  when  you  studied  in 
the  Latin  Quarter?  " 

He  laughed.  "  Not  a  bit.  I  never  saw  that  species 
of  life  off  the  stage." 

"  Oh,  wasn't  there  any  romance  ?  "  she  asked  for 
lornly. 

"  Well — as  much  as  you  find  in  New  York  or  any 
where." 

"  Is  there  any  romance  in  New  York  ?  " 

"  There  is  anywhere,  isn't  there  ?  If  only  one  has 
the  instinct  to  recognise  it  and  a  capacity  to  compre 
hend  it." 

"  Of  course,"  she  murmured,  "  there  are  artists  and 
studios  and  models  and  poverty  everywhere.  ...  I 
suppose  that  without  poverty  real  romance  is  scarcely 
possible." 

He  was  still  laughing  when  he  answered: 

"  Financial  conditions  make  no  difference.  Romance 
is  in  one's  self — or  it  is  nowhere." 

"  Is  it  in — you  ?  "  she  asked  audaciously. 

He  made  no  pretence  of  restraining  his  mirth. 

"  Why,  I  don't  know,  Geraldine.  Lots  of  people 
have  the  capacity  for  it.  Poverty,  art,  a  studio,  a 
velvet  jacket,  and  models  are  not  essentials.  .  .  .  You 
ask  if  it  is  in  me.  I  think  it  is.  I  think  it  exists  in  any 
body  who  can  glorify  the  commonplace.  To  make  peo 
ple  look  with  astonished  interest  at  something  which 
has  always  been  too  familiar  to  arrest  their  attention — 
only  your  romancer  can  accomplish  this." 

"  Please  go  on,"  she  said  as  he  ended.  "  I'm  lis- 
73 


tening  very  hard.     You  are  glorifying  commonplaces, 
you  know." 

They  both  laughed;  he,  a  little  red,  disconcerted, 
piqued,  and  withal  charmed  at  her  dainty  thrust  at 
himself. 

"  I  was  talking  commonplaces,"  he  admitted,  "  but 
how  was  I  to  know  enough  not  to  ?  Women  are  usually 
soulfully  receptive  when  a  painter  opens  a  tin  of  mouldy 
axioms.  ...  I  didn't  realise  I  was  encountering  my 
peer " 

"  You  may  be  encountering  more  than  that,"  she 
said,  the  excitement  of  her  success  with  him  flushing 
her  adorably. 

"  Oh,  I've  heard  how  terribly  educated  you  and 
Scott  are.  No  doubt  you  can  floor  me  on  anything 
intellectual.  See  here,  Geraldine,  it's  simply  wicked ! — 
you  are  so  soft  and  pretty,  and  nobody  could  sus 
pect  you  of  knowing  such  a  lot  and  pouncing  out 
on  a  fellow  for  trying  a  few  predigested  platitudes  on 
you 

"  I  don't  know  anything,  Duane !  How  perfectly 
horrid  of  you !  " 

"  Well,  you've  scared  me !  " 

"  I  haven't.  You're  laughing  at  me.  You  know 
well  enough  that  I  don't  know  the  things  you  know." 

"What  are  they,  in  Heaven's  name?" 

"  Things — experiences — matters  that  concern  life — 
the  world,  men,  everything !  " 

"  You  wouldn't  be  interesting  if  you  knew  such 
things,"  he  said.  She  thought  there  was  the  same  curi 
ous  hint  of  indifference,  something  of  listlessness,  almost 
fatigue  in  the  expression  of  his  eyes.  And  again,  ap 
parently  apropos  of  nothing,  she  found  herself  think 
ing  of  what  Kathleen  had  said  about  this  man. 

74 


THE    THRESHOLD 


"  I  don't  understand  you,"  she  said,  looking  at 
him. 

He  smiled,  and  the  ghost  of  a  shadow  passed  from 
his  eyes. 

"  I  was  talking  at  random." 

"  I  don't  think  you  were." 

"Why  not?" 

She  shook  her  head,  drawing  a  long,  quiet  breath. 
Silent,  lips  resting  in  softly  troubled  curves,  she 
thought  of  what  Kathleen  had  said  about  this  man. 
What  had  he  done  to  disgrace  himself? 

A  few  moments  later  she  rose  with  decision. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  unconsciously  imperious. 

He  looked  across  the  room  and  saw  Dysart. 

"  But  I  haven't  begun  to  tell  you — "  he  began ;  and 
she  interrupted  smilingly: 

"  I  know  enough  about  you  for  a  while ;  I  have 
learned  that  you  are  a  very  wonderful  young  man  and 
that  I'm  inclined  to  like  you.  You  will  come  to  see  me, 
won't  you?  .  .  .  No,  I  can't  remain  here  another  sec 
ond.  I  want  to  go  to  Kathleen.  I  want  you  to  ask 
her  to  dance,  too.  .  .  .  Please  don't  urge  me,  Duane. 
I — this  is  my  first  dinner  dance — yes,  my  very  first. 
And  I  don't  intend  to  sit  in  corners — I  wish  to  dance; 
I  desire  to  be  happy.  I  want  to  see  lots  and  lots  of 
men,  not  just  one.  .  .  .  You  don't  know  all  the  lonely 
years  I  must  make  up  for  every  minute  now,  or  you 
wouldn't  look  at  me  in  such  a  sulky,  bullying  way.  .  .  . 
Besides — do  you  think  I  find  you  a  compensation  for  all 
those  delightful  people  out  yonder  ?  " 

He  glanced  up  and  saw  Dysart  still  watching  them. 
Suddenly  he  dropped  his  hand  over  hers. 

"  Perhaps  you  may  find  that  compensation  in  me 
some  day,"  he  said.  "  How  do  you  know  ?  " 

75 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  What  a  silly  thing  to  say !  Don't  paw  me,  Duane ; 
you  hurt  my  hand.  Look  at  what  you've  done  to  my 
fan!" 

"  It  came  between  us.  I'm  sorry  for  anything  that 
comes  between  us." 

Both  were  smiling  fixedly;  he  said  nothing  for  a 
moment ;  their  gaze  endured  until  she  flinched. 

"  Silly,"  she  said,  "  you  are  trying  to  tyrannise 
over  me  as  you  did  when  we  were  children.  I  remember 
now " 

"  You  did  the  bullying  then." 

"  Did  I?    Then  I'll  continue." 

"  No,  you  won't ;  it's  my  turn." 

"  I  will  if  I  care  to ! " 

"  Try  it." 

"  Very  well.    Take  me  to  Kathleen." 

"  Not  until  I  have  the  dances  I  want !  " 

Again  their  eyes  met  in  silence.  Dark  little  lights 
glimmered  in  hers ;  his  narrowed.  The  fixed  smile  died 
out. 

"  The  dances  you  want !  "  she  repeated.  "  How  do 
you  propose  to  secure  them?  By  crushing  my  fingers 
or  dragging  me  about  by  my  hair?  I  want  to  tell  you 
something,  Duane :  these  blunt,  masterful  men  are  very 
amusing  on  the  stage  and  in  fiction,  but  they're  not 
suitable  to  have  tagging  at  heel " 

"  I  won't  do  any  tagging  at  heel,"  he  said ;  "  don't 
count  on  it." 

"  I  have  no  inclination  to  count  on  you  at  all,"  she 
retorted,  thoroughly  irritated. 

"  You  will  have  it  some  day." 

"Oh!    Do  you  think  so?" 

"  Yes.  ...  I  didn't  mean  to  speak  the  way  I  did. 
Won't  you  give  me  a  dance  or  two  ?  " 

76 


THE    THRESHOLD 


"  No.  I  had  no  idea  how  horrid  you  could  be.  ... 
I  was  told  you  were.  .  .  .  Now  I  can  believe  it.  Take 
me  to  Kathleen ;  do  you  hear  me  ?  " 

After  a  step  or  two  he  said,  not  looking  at  her : 

"  I'm  really  sorry,  Geraldine.  I'm  not  a  brute. 
Something  about  that  fellow  Dysart  upset  me." 

"  Please  don't  talk  about  it  any  more." 

"  No.  .  .  .  Only  I  am  glad  to  see  you  again,  and 
I  do  care  for  your  regard." 

"  Then  earn  it,"  she  said  unevenly,  as  her  anger 
subsided.  "  I  don't  know  very  much  about  men  in  the 
world,  but  I  know  enough  to  understand  when  they're 
offensive." 

"Was  I?" 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  Because  you  carried  me  away  with  a 
high  hand,  you  thought  it  the  easiest  way  to  take  with 
me  on  every  occasion.  .  .  .  Duane,  do  you  know,  in 
some  ways,  we  are  somewhat  alike?  And  that  is  why 
we  used  to  fight  so." 

"  I  believe  we  are,"  he  said  slowly.  "  But — I  was 
never  able  to  keep  away  from  you." 

"  Which  makes  our  outlook  rather  stormy,  doesn't 
it  ?  "  she  said,  turning  to  him  with  all  of  her  old  sweet 
friendly  manner.  "  Do  let  us  agree,  Duane.  Mercy 
on  us !  we  ought  to  adore  each  other — unless  we  have 
forgotten  the  quarrelsome  but  adorable  friendship  of 
our  childhood.  7  thought  you  were  the  perfection  of 
all  boys." 

"  I  thought  there  was  no  girl  to  equal  you,  Geral 
dine." 

She  turned  audaciously,  not  quite  knowing  what  she 
was  saying: 

"  Think  so  now,  Duane !  It  will  be  good  for  us 
both." 

77 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  Not  —  seriously,"  she  said.  ..."  And,  Duane, 
please  don't  be  too  serious  with  me.  I  am — you  make 
me  uncertain — you  make  me  uncomfortable.  I  don't 
know  just  what  to  say  to  you  or  just  how  it  will  be 
taken.  You  mustn't  be — that  way — with  me;  you 
won't,  will  you  ?  " 

He  was  silent  for  a  moment;  then  his  face  lighted 
up.  "  No,"  he  said,  laughing ;  "  I'll  open  another  can 
of  platitudes.  .  .  .  You're  a  dear  to  forgive  me." 

Dancing  had  been  general  before  the  cotillion ;  debu 
tantes  continued  to  arrive  in  shoals  from  other  dinners, 
a  gay,  rosy,  eager  throng,  filling  drawing-rooms,  con 
servatory,  and  library  with  birdlike  flutter  and  chat 
ter,  overflowing  into  the  breakfast-room,  banked  up  on 
the  stairs  in  bright-eyed  battalions. 

The  cotillion,  led  by  Jack  Dysart  dancing  alone,  was 
one  of  those  carefully  thought  out  intellectual  affairs 
which  shakes  New  York  society  to  its  intellectual 
foundations. 

In  one  figure  Geraldine  came  whizzing  into  the  room 
in  a  Palm  Beach  tricycle-chair  trimmed  with  orchids 
and  propelled  by  Peter  Tappan;  and  from  her  seat 
amid  the  flowers  she  distributed  favours — live  white 
cockatoos,  clinging,  flapping,  screeching  on  gilded 
wands;  fans  spangled  with  tiny  electric  jewels;  para 
sols  of  pink  silk  set  with  incandescent  lights;  crys 
tal  cages  containing  great,  pale-green  Luna  moths 
alive  and  fluttering;  circus  hoops  of  gilt  filled 
with  white  tissue  paper,  through  which  the  men 
jumped. 

There  was  also  a  Totem-pole  figure — and  other 
things,  including  supper  and  champagne,  and  the  semi- 

78 


THE   THRESHOLD 


obscurity  of  conservatory  and  stairs ;  and  there  was  the 
usual  laughter  to  cover  heart-aches,  and  the  inevitable 
torn  gowns  and  crushed  flowers ;  and  a  number  of  young 
men  talking  too  loud  and  too  much  in  the  cloak-room, 
and  Rosalie  Dysart  admitting  to  Scott  Seagrave  in  the 
conservatory  that  nobody  really  understood  her;  and 
Delancy  Grandcourt  edging  about  the  outer  borders 
of  the  flowery,  perfumed  vortex,  following  Geraldine 
and  losing  her  a  hundred  times. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  she  was  captured  by 
Duane  Mallett  and  convoyed  to  the  supper-room,  where 
later  she  became  utterly  transfigured  into  a  laugh 
ing,  blushing,  sparkling,  delicious  creature,  small 
ears  singing  with  her  first  venturesome  glass  of  cham 
pagne. 

All  the  world  seemed  laughing  with  her;  life  itself 
was  only  an  endless  bubble  of  laughter,  swelling  the 
gay,  unending  chorus ;  life  was  the  hot  breeze  from 
scented  fans  stirring  a  thousand  roses ;  life  was  the 
silken  throng  and  its  whirling  and  its  feverish  voices 
crying  out  to  her  to  live ! 

Her  childhood's  playmate  had  come  back  a  stranger, 
but  already  he  was  being  transformed,  through  the 
magic  of  laughter,  into  the  boy  she  remembered;  awk 
wardness  of  readjusting  her  relations  with  him  had  en 
tirely  vanished ;  she  called  him  dear  Duane,  laughed  at 
him,  chatted  with  him,  appealed,  contradicted,  rebuked, 
tyrannised,  until  the  young  fellow  was  clean  swept  off 
his  feet. 

Then  Dysart  came,  and  for  the  second  time  the  note 
of  coquetry  was  struck,  clearly,  unmistakably,  through 
the  tension  of  a  moment's  preliminary  silence;  and 
Duane,  dumb,  furious,  yielded  her  only  when  she  took 
Dysart's  arm  with  a  finality  that  became  almost  inso- 

79 


lent  as  she  turned  and  looked  back  at  her  childhood's 
comrade,  who  followed,  scowling  at  Dysart's  graceful 
back. 

Confused  by  his  hurt  and  his  anger,  which  seemed 
out  of  all  logical  proportion  to  the  cause  of  it,  he 
turned  abruptly  and  collided  with  Grandcourt,  who  had 
edged  up  that  far,  waiting  for  the  opportunity  of  which 
Dysart,  as  usual,  robbed  him. 

Grandcourt  apologised,  muttering  something  about 
Mrs.  Severn  wishing  him  to  find  Miss  Seagrave.  He 
stood,  awkwardly,  looking  after  Geraldine  and  Dysart, 
but  not  offering  to  follow  them. 

"  Lot  of  debutantes  here — the  whole  year's  output," 
he  said  vaguely.  "  What  a  noisy  supper-room — eh, 
Mallett?  I'm  rather  afraid  champagne  is  responsible 
for  some  of  it." 

Duane  started  forward,  halted. 

"  Did  you  say  Mrs.  Severn  wants  Miss  Seagrave  ?  " 

"Y-yes.  .  .  .  I'd  better  go  and  teU  her,  hadn't  I?" 

He  flushed  heavily,  but  made  no  movement  to  follow 
Geraldine  and  Dysart,  who  had  now  entered  the  con 
servatory  and  disappeared. 

For  a  full  minute,  uncomfortably  silent,  the  two  men 
stood  side  by  side;  then  Duane  said  in  a  constrained 
voice : 

"  I'll  speak  to  Miss  Seagrave,  if  you'll  find  her 
brother  and  Mrs.  Severn  " ;  and  walked  slowly  toward 
the  palm-set  rotunda. 

When  he  found  them — and  he  found  them  easily, 
for  Geraldine's  overexcited  laughter  warned  and  guided 
him — Dysart,  her  fan  in  his  hands,  looked  up  at  Duane 
intensely  annoyed,  and  the  young  girl  tossed  away  a 
half-destroyed  rose  and  glanced  up,  the  laughter  dying 
out  from  lips  and  eyes. 

80 


THE    THRESHOLD 


"  Kathleen  sent  for  you,"  said  Duane  drily. 

"  I'll  come  in  a  minute,  Duane." 

"  In  a  moment,"  repeated  Dysart  insolently,  and 
turned  his  back. 

The  colour  surged  into  Mallett's  face;  he  turned 
sharply  on  his  heel. 

"  Wait !  "  said  Geraldine ;  "  Duane — do  you  hear 
me?  " 

"  I'll  take  you  back,"  began  Dysart,  but  she  passed 
in  front  of  him  and  laid  her  hand  on  Mallett's  arm. 

"  Won't  you  wait  for  me,  Duane?  " 

And  suddenly  things  seemed  to  be  as  they  had  been 
in  their  childhood,  the  resurgence  swept  them  both  back 
to  the  old  and  stormy  footing  again. 

"Duane!" 

"What?" 

"  I  tell  you  to  wait  for  me — here!  "  She  stamped 
her  foot. 

He  scowled — but  waited.     She  turned  on  Dysart: 

"  Good-night !  " — offering  her  hand  with  decision. 

Dysart  began :  "  But  I  had  expected " 

"Good-night!" 

Dysart  stared,  took  the  offered  hand,  hesitated, 
started  to  speak,  thought  better  of  it,  made  a  charac 
teristically  graceful  obeisance,  and  an  excellent  exit,  all 
things  considered. 

Geraldine  drew  a  deep  breath,  moved  forward 
through  the  flower-set  dimness  a  step  or  two,  halted, 
and,  as  Mallett  came  up,  passed  her  arm  through  his. 

"  Duane,"  she  said,  "  the  champagne  has  gone  to 
my  head." 

"  Nonsense ! " 

"  It  has!  My  cheeks  are  queer — the  skin  fits  too 
tight.  My  legs  don't  belong  to  me — but  they'll  do." 

81 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  laughed  and  turned  toward  him;  her  feverish 
breath  touched  his  cheek. 

"  My  first  dinner !  Isn't  it  disgraceful  ?  But  how 
could  I  know  ?  " 

"  You  mustn't  let  it  scare  you." 

"  It  doesn't.  I  don't  care.  I  knew  something  would 
go  wrong.  I — the  truth  is,  that  I  don't  know  how  to 
act — how  to  accept  my  liberty.  I  don't  know  how  to 
use  it.  I'm  a  perfect  fool.  .  .  .  Do  you  think  Kath 
leen  will  notice  this?  Isn't  it  terrible!  She  never 
dreamed  I  would  touch  any  wine.  Do  I  look — 
queer  ?  " 

"  No.  It  isn't  so,  anyway — and  you'll  simply  lean 
on  me " 

"  Oh,  my  knees  are  perfectly  steady.  It's  only  that 
they  don't  seem  to  belong  to  me.  I'm — I'm  excited — 
I've  laughed  too  much — more  than  I  have  ever  laughed 
in  all  the  years  of  my  life  put  together.  You  don't 
know  what  I  mean,  do  you,  Duane?  But  it's  true;  I've 
talked  to-night  more  than  I  ever  have  in  any  one  week. 
.  .  .  And  it's  gone  to  my  head — all  this — all  these  peo 
ple  who  laugh  with  me  over  nothing — follow  me,  tell  me 
I  am  pretty,  ask  me  for  dances,  favours,  beg  me  for  a 
word  with  them — as  though  I  would  need  asking  or 
urging ! — as  though  my  impulse  is  not  to  open  my  heart 
to  every  one  of  them — open  my  arms  to  them — thank 
them  on  my  knees  for  being  here — for  being  nice  to  me 
— all  these  boys  who  make  little  circles  around  me — so 
funny,  so  quaint  in  their  formality " 

She  pressed  his  arm  tighter. 

"  Let  me  rattle  on — let  me  babble,  Duane.  I've 
years  of  silence  to  make  up  for.  Let  me  talk  like  a 
fool ;  you  know  I'm  not  one.  .  .  .  Oh,  the  happiness  of 
this  one  night ! — the  happiness  of  it !  I  never  shall  have 

82 


THE   THRESHOLD 


enough  dancing,  never  enough  of  pleasure.  .  .  .  I — 
I'm  perfectly  mad  over  pleasure;  I  like  men.  ...  I 
suppose  the  champagne  makes  me  frank  about  it — but 
I  don't  care — I  do  like  men " 

"That  one?"  demanded  Mallett,  halting  her  on 
the  edge  of  the  palms  which  screened  the  conservatory 
doors. 

"  You  mean  Mr.  Dysart  ?    Yes — I — do  like  him." 

"  Well,  he's  married,  and  you'd  better  not,"  he 
snapped. 

"  C-can't  I  like  him  ?  "  in  piteous  astonishment  which 
set  the  colour  flying  into  his  face. 

"  Why,  yes — of  course — I  didn't  mean " 

"  What  did  you  mean?  Isn't  it  —  shouldn't  he 
be " 

"  Oh,  it's  all  right,  Geraldine.  Only  he's  a  sort  of 
a  pig  to  keep  you  away  from — others " 

"  Other— pigs?  " 

He  turned  sharply,  seized  her,  and  forcibly  turned 
her  toward  the  light.  She  made  no  effort  to  control  her 
laughter,  excusing  it  between  breaths : 

"  I  didn't  mean  to  turn  what  you  said  into  ridicule ; 
it  came  out  before  I  meant  it.  ...  Do  let  me  laugh  a 
little,  Duane.  I  simply  cannot  care  about  anything 
serious  for  a  while — I  want  to  be  frivolous " 

"  Don't  laugh  so  loud,"  he  whispered. 

She  released  his  arm  and  sank  down  on  a  marble 
seat  behind  the  flowering  oleanders. 

"Why  are  you  so  disagreeable?"  she  pouted.  "I 
know  I'm  a  perfect  fool,  and  the  champagne  has  gone 
to  my  silly  head — and  you'll  never  catch  me  this  way 
again.  .  .  .  Don't  scowl  at  me.  Why  don't  you  act 
like  other  men  ?  Don't  you  know  how  ?  " 

"  Know  how  ?  "  he  repeated,  looking  down  into  the 
83 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


adorably  flushed   face   uplifted.      "  Know   how   to   do 
what?" 

"  To  flirt.  I  don't.  Everybody  has  tried  to  teach 
me  to-night — everybody  except  you  .  .  .  Duane.  .  .  . 
I'm  ready  to  go  home ;  I'll  go.  Only  my  head  is  whirl 
ing  so —  Tell  me — are  you  glad  to  see  me  again? 
.  .  .  Really  ?  .  .  .  And  you  don't  mind  my  folly  ?  And 
my  tormenting  you?  .  .  .  And  my — my  turning  your 
head  a  little?" 

"  You've  done  that"  he  said,  forcing  a  laugh. 

"  Have  !?...!  knew  it.  ...  You  see,  I  am  hor 
ridly  truthful  to-night.  In  vino  veritas!  .  .  .  Tell  me 
— did  I,  all  by  myself,  turn  that  too-experienced  head 
of  yours  ?  " 

"  You're  doing  it  now,"  he  said. 

She  laughed  deliciously .  "  Now  ?  Am  I  ?  Yes,  I 
know  I  am.  I've  made  a  lot  of  men  think  hard  to 
night.  ...  I  didn't  know  I  could;  I  never  before 
thought  of  it.  ...  And — even  you,  too?  .  .  .  You're 
not  very  serious,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am.  I  tell  you,  Geraldine,  I'm  about  as 
much  in  love  with  you  as " 

"  In  love! " 

"  Yes " 

"  No ! " 

"  Yes,  I  am " 

But  she  would  not  have  it  put  so  crudely. 

"  You  dear  boy,"  she  said,  "  we'll  both  be  quite  sane 
to-morrow.  .  .  .  No,  I  don't  mind  your  kissing  my 
hand — I'm  dreadfully  tired,  anyway.  .  .  .  We'll  find 
Kathleen,  shall  we?  My  head  doesn't  buzz  much." 

"  Geraldine,"  he  said,  deliberately  encircling  her 
waist,  "  you  are  only  the  same  small  girl  I  used  to  know, 
after  all." 

84 


'Duane!'  she  gasped — 'why  did  you?" 


THE    THRESHOLD 


"  Y-yes,  I'm  afraid  so." 

"  And  you're  not  really  old  enough  to  really  care 
for  anybody,  are  you?  " 

"Care?" 

"  Love." 

"  No,  I'm  not.    Don't  talk  to  me  that  way,  Duane." 

He  drew  her  suddenly  into  his  arms  and  kissed  her 
on  the  cheek  twice,  and  again  on  the  mouth,  as,  crimson, 
breathless,  she  strained  away  from  him. 

"Duane!"  she  gasped — "why  did  you?"  Then 
the  throbbing  of  her  body  and  crushed  lips  made  her 
furious.  "  Why  did  you  do  that  ?  "  she  cried  fiercely — 
but  her  voice  ended  in  a  dry  sob ;  she  covered  her  head 
and  face  with  bare  arms;  her  hands  tightened  convul 
sively  and  clenched. 

"  Oh,"  she  said,  "  how  could  you ! — when  I  came  to 
you  —  feeling  —  afraid  of  myself !  I  know  you  now. 
You  are  what  they  say  you  are." 

"  What  do  they  say  I  am  ?  "  he  stammered. 

"  Horrid — I  don't  know — wild ! — whatever  that  im 
plies.  ...  I  didn't  care — I  didn't  care  even  to  under 
stand,  because  I  thought  you  generous  and  nice  to  me 
— and  I  was  so  confident  of  you  that  I  came  with  you 
and  told  you  I  had  had  some  champagne  which  made 
my  head  swim.  .  .  .  And  you — did  this!  It — it  was 
contemptible." 

He  bit  his  lip,  but  said  nothing. 

"  Why  did  you  do  it  ?  "  she  demanded,  dropping  her 
arms  from  her  face  and  staring  at  him.  "  Is  that  the 
sort  of  thing  you  did  abroad?  " 

"  Can't  you  see  I'm  in  love  with  you  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Oh !  Is  that  love  ?  Then  keep  it  for  your  models 
and — and  Bohemian  grisettes !  A  decent  man  couldn't 
have  done  such  a  thing  to  me.  I — I  loathe  myself  for 

85 


being  silly  and  weak  enough  to  have  touched  that  wine, 
but  I  have  more  contempt  for  you  than  I  have  for  my 
self.  What  you  did  was  cowardly !  " 

Much  of  the  colour  had  fled  from  her  face ;  her  eyes, 
bluish  underneath  the  lower  lids,  turned  wearily,  help 
lessly  in  search  of  Kathleen. 

"  I  knew  I  was  unfit  for  liberty,"  she  said,  half  to 
herself.  "  What  an  ending  to  my  first  pleasure !  " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Geraldine,"  he  broke  out, 
"  don't  take  an  accident  so  tragically " 

"  I  want  Kathleen.     Do  you  hear  ?  " 

"  Very  well ;  I'll  find  her.  .  .  .  And,  whatever  you 
say  or  think,  I  am  in  love  with  you,"  he  added  fiercely. 

His  voice,  his  words,  were  meaningless ;  she  was  con 
scious  only  of  the  heavy  pulse  in  throat  and  temple,  of 
the  desire  for  her  room  and  darkness.  Lights,  music, 
the  scent  of  dying  flowers,  laughter,  men,  all  had  be 
come  abhorrent.  Something  within  her  lay  bruised  and 
stunned;  and,  as  never  before,  the  vast  and  terrible 
phantom  of  her  loneliness  rose  like  a  nightmare  to 
menace  her. 

Later  Kathleen  came  and  took  her  away. 


CHAPTER    IV 

THE    YEAR    OF    DISCRETION 

HER  first  winter  resembled,  more  or  less,  the  first 
winter  of  the  average  debutante. 

Under  the  roof  of  the  metropolitan  social  temple 
there  was  a  niche  into  which  her  forefathers  had  fitted. 
Within  the  confines  of  this  she  expected,  and  was  ex 
pected,  to  live  and  move  and  have  her  being,  and  ulti 
mately  wing  upward  to  her  God,  leaving  the  conse 
crated  cubby-hole  reserved  for  her  descendants. 

She  did  what  her  sister  debutantes  did,  and  some 
things  they  did  not  do,  was  asked  where  they  were 
asked,  decorated  the  same  tier  of  boxes  at  the  opera, 
appeared  in  the  same  short-skirted  entertainments  of 
the  Junior  League,  saw  what  they  saw,  was  seen  where 
they  were  seen,  chattered,  danced,  and  flirted  with  the 
same  youths,  was  smitten  by  the  popular  "  dancing  " 
man,  convalesced  in  average  time,  smoked  her  first  cig 
arette,  fell  a  victim  to  the  handsome  and  horrid  mar 
ried  destroyer,  recovered  with  a  shock  when,  as  usual, 
he  overdid  it,  played  at  being  engaged,  was  kissed  once 
or  twice,  adored  Sembrich,  listened  ignorantly  but  with 
intuitive  shudders  to  her  first  scandals,  sent  flowers  to 
Ethel  Barrymore,  kept  Lent  with  the  pure  fervour  of 
a  conscience  troubled  and  untainted,  drove  four  in  the 
coaching  parade,  and  lunched  afterward  at  the  Com 
monwealth  Club,  where  her  name  was  subsequently  put 
up  for  election. 

7  87 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Spectacular  charities  lured  her  from  the  Plaza  to 
Sherry's,  from  Sherry's  to  the  St.  Regis ;  church  work 
beguiled  her;  women's  suffrage,  led  daintily  in  a  series 
of  circles  by  Fashion  and  Wealth,  enlisted  her  passive 
patronage.  She  even  tried  the  slums,  but  the  perfume 
was  too  much  for  her. 

All  the  small  talk  and  epigrams  of  the  various  petty 
impinging  circles  under  the  social  dome  passed  into 
and  out  of  her  small  ears — gossip,  epigrams,  apho 
risms,  rumours,  apropos  surmises,  asides,  and  off-stage 
observations,  subtle  with  double  entendre,  harmless  and 
otherwise. 

She  met  people  of  fashion,  of  wealth,  and  both ;  and 
now  and  then  encountered  one  or  two  of  those  men  and 
women  of  real  distinction  whose  names  and  peregrin 
ations  are  seldom  chronicled  in  the  papers. 

She  heard  the  great  artists  of  the  two  operas  sing 
in  private;  was  regaled  with  information  concerning 
the  remarkable  decency  or  indecency  of  their  private 
careers.  She  saw  fashionable  plays  which  instructed 
the  public  about  squalor,  murder,  and  men's  mistresses, 
which  dissected  very  skilfully  and  artistically  the  ethics 
of  moral  degradation.  And  being  as  healthy  and  curi 
ous  as  the  average  girl,  she  found  in  the  theatres  ma 
terial  with  which  to  inform  herself  about  certain  oc 
cult  mysteries  concerning  which,  heretofore,  she  had 
been  left  mercifully  in  doubt. 

In  spite  of  Kathleen,  it  was  inevitable  that  she 
should  acquire  from  the  fashionable  in  literature,  music, 
and  the  drama,  that  sorry  and  unnecessary  wisdom 
which  ages  souls. 

And  if  what  she  saw  or  heard  ever  puzzled  her, 
there  was  always  somebody,  young  or  old,  to  enlighten 
her  innocent  perplexity;  and  with  each  illumination 

88 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

she  shrank  a  little  less  aloof  from  this  shabby  wisdom 
gilded  with  "  art,"  which  she  could  not  choose  but  ac 
cept  as  fact,  but  the  depravity  of  which  she  never  was 
entirely  able  to  comprehend. 

In  March  the  Seagrave  twins  arrived  at  the  alleged 
age  of  discretion.  On  their  twenty-first  birthday  the 
Half  Moon  Trust  Company  went  solemnly  into  court 
and  rendered  an  accounting  of  its  stewardship;  the 
yearly  reports  which  it  had  made  during  the  term  of 
its  trusteeship  were  brought  forward,  examined  by  the 
court,  and  the  great  Half  Moon  Trust  Company  was 
given  an  honourable  discharge.  It  had  done  its  duty. 
The  twins  were  masters  of  their  financial  and  moral 
fate. 

It  was  about  that  moribund  period  of  the  social 
solstice  when  the  fag  end  of  the  season  had  fizzled  out 
like  a  wet  firecracker  in  the  April  rains ;  and  Geraldine 
and  Kathleen  were  tired,  mentally  and  bodily.  And 
Scott  was  buying  polo  ponies  from  a  British  friend  and 
shotguns  from  a  needy  gentleman  from  Long  Island. 

It  had  been  rather  trying  work  to  rid  Geraldine  of 
the  aspirants  for  her  fortune;  during  the  winter  she 
was  proposed  to  under  almost  every  conceivable  condi 
tion  and  circumstance.  Kathleen  had  been  bored  and 
badgered  and  bothered  and  importuned  to  the  verge  of 
exhaustion ;  Scott  was  used,  shamelessly,  without  his 
suspecting  it,  and  he  generally  had  in  tow  a  string  of 
financially  spavined  aspirants  who  linked  arms  with  him 
from  club  to  club,  from  theatre  to  opera,  from  grille 
to  grille,  until  he  was  pleasantly  bewildered  at  his  own 
popularity. 

Geraldine  was  surprised,  confused,  shamed,  irritated 
in  turn  with  every  new  importunity.  But  she  remained 
sensible  enough  to  be  quite  frank  and  truthful  with 

89 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Kathleen,  except  for  an  exciting  secret  engagement 
with  Bunbury  Gray  which  lasted  for  two  weeks.  And 
Kathleen  was  given  strength  sufficient  for  each  case  as 
it  presented  itself;  and  now  the  fag  end  of  the  season 
died  out;  the  last  noble  and  indigent  foreigner  had 
been  eluded;  the  last  old  beau  foiled;  the  last  squab- 
headed  dancing  man  successfully  circumvented.  And 
now  the  gallinaceous  half  of  the  world  was  leaving  town 
in  noisy  and  glittering  migration,  headed  for  tempo 
rary  roosts  all  over  the  globe,  from  Newport  to  Nova 
Scotia,  from  Kineo  to  Kara  Dagh. 

Country  houses  were  opening  throughout  the  West 
ern  Hemisphere;  Long  Island  stirred  from  its  long 
winter  lethargy,  stung  into  active  life  by  the  Oyster 
Bay  mosquito ;  town  houses  closed ;  terrace,  pillar,  por 
tico,  and  windows  were  already  being  boarded  over; 
lace  curtains  came  down ;  textiles  went  to  the  cleaners ; 
the  fresh  scent  of  camphor  and  lavender  lingered  in  the 
mellow  half-light  of  rooms  where  furniture  and  pictures 
loomed  linen-shrouded  and  the  polished  floor  echoed 
every  footstep. 

In  the  sunny  gloom  of  the  Seagrave  house  Geral- 
dine  found  a  grateful  retreat  from  the  inspiring  glare 
and  confused  racket  of  her  first  whiter ;  ample  time  for 
rest,  reverie,  and  reflection,  with  only  a  few  intimates 
to  break  her  meditations,  only  informality  to  reckon 
with,  and  plenty  of  leisure  to  plan  for  the  summer. 

Around  the  house,  trees  and  rhododendrons  were 
now  in  freshest  bloom,  flower-beds  fragrant,  grass  ten 
derly  emerald.  The  moving  shadows  of  maple  leaves 
patterned  the  white  walls  of  her  bedroom ;  wind-blown 
gusts  of  wistaria  fragrance,  from  the  long,  grapelike, 
violet-tinted  bunches  swaying  outside  the  window,  puffed 
out  her  curtains  every  morning. 

90 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

At  night  subtler  perfumes  stole  upward  from  the 
dark  garden;  the  roar  of  traffic  from  the  avenues  was 
softened ;  carriage  lights  in  the  purpling  dusk  of  the 
Park  moved  like  firebugs  drifting  through  level  wooded 
vistas.  Across  the  reservoir  lakes  the  jewelled  night- 
zone  of  the  West  Side  sparkled,  reflected  across  the 
water  in  points  of  trembling  flame;  south,  a  gemmed 
bar  of  topaz  light,  upright  against  the  sky,  marked 
the  Plaza;  beyond,  sprinkled  into  space  like  constel 
lations  dusting  endless  depths,  the  lights  of  the  city 
receded  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

In  the  zenith  the  sky  is  always  tinted  with  the 
strange,  sinister  night-glow  of  the  metropolis,  red  as 
fire-licked  smoke  when  fog  from  the  bay  settles,  pallid 
as  the  very  shadow  of  light  when  nights  are  clear;  but 
it  is  always  there — always  will  be  there  after  the  sun 
goes  down  into  the  western  seas,  and  the  eyes  of  the 
monstrous  iron  city  burn  on  through  the  centuries. 

One  morning  late  in  April  Geraldine  Seagrave  rode 
up  under  the  porte-cochere  with  her  groom,  dis 
mounted,  patted  her  horse  sympathetically,  and  re 
garded  with  concern  the  limping  animal  as  the  groom 
led  him  away  to  the  stables.  Then  she  went  up 
stairs. 

To  Kathleen,  who  was  preparing  to  go  out,  she 
said: 

"  I  had  scarcely  entered  the  Park,  my  dear,  when 
poor  Bibi  pulled  up  lame.  No,  I  told  Redmond  not 
to  saddle  another;  I  suppose  Duane  will  be  furious. 
Where  are  you  going?  " 

"I  don't  know.  Shall  I  wait  for  you?  I've  or 
dered  a  victoria." 

"  No,  thanks.  You  look  so  pretty  this  mornkig, 
91 


Kathleen.  Sometimes  you  appear  younger  than  I  do. 
Scott  was  pig  enough  to  say  so  the  other  day  when  I 
had  a  headache.  It's  true  enough,  too,"  she  added, 
smiling. 

Kathleen  Severn  laughed ;  she  looked  scarcely  more 
than  twenty-five  and  she  knew  it. 

"  You  pretty  thing !  "  exclaimed  Geraldine,  kissing 
her,  "  no  wonder  you  attract  the  really  interesting  men 
and  leave  me  the  dreadful  fledglings !  It's  bad  of  you ; 
and  I  don't  see  why  I'm  stupid  enough  to  have  such  an 
attractive  woman  for  my  closest  " — a  kiss — "  dearest 
friend!  Even  Duane  is  villain  enough  to  tell  me  that 
he  finds  you  overwhelmingly  attractive.  Did  you  know 
it?" 

Geraldine's  careless  gaiety  seemed  spontaneous 
enough ;  yet  there  was  the  slightest  constraint  in  Kath 
leen's  responsive  smile: 

"  Duane  isn't  to  be  taken  seriously,"  she  said. 

"  Not  by  any  means,"  nodded  Geraldine,  twirling 
her  crop. 

"  I'm  glad  you  understand  him,"  observed  Kath 
leen,  gazing  at  the  point  of  her  sunshade.  She  looked 
up  presently  and  met  Geraldine's  dark  gaze.  Again 
there  came  that  almost  imperceptible  hesitation;  then: 

"  I  certainly  do  understand  Duane  Mallett,"  said 
Geraldine  carelessly. 

"  Shall  I  wait  for  you?  "  asked  Kathleen.  "  We  can 
lunch  out  together  and  drive  in  the  Park  later." 

"  I'm  too  lazy  even  to  take  off  my  boots  and  habit. 
Where's  that  volume  of  Mendez  you  thought  fit  to  hide 
from  me,  you  wretch?  " 

"  Why  on  earth  did  you  buy  it  ?  " 

"  I  bought  it  because  Rosalie  Dysart  says  Mendez 

is  a  great  modern  master  of  prose " 

92 


THE    YEAR   OF   DISCRETION 

"  And  Rosalie  is  a  great  modern  mistress  of  pose. 
Don't  read  Mendez." 

"  Isn't  it  necessary  for  a  girl  to  read " 

"  No,  it  isn't !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  ignorant.  Besides,  I'm — curi 
ous  to  know " 

"  Be  decently  curious,  dearest.  There's  a  danger 
mark;  don't  cross  it." 

"  I  don't  wish  to." 

She  stretched  out  her  arms,  crop  in  hand,  doubled 
them  back,  and  head  tipped  on  one  side,  yawned  shame 
lessly  at  her  own  laziness. 

"  Scott  is  becoming  very  restless,"  she  said. 

"  About  going  away  ?  " 

"  Yes.  I  really  do  think,  Kathleen,  that  we  ought 
to  have  some  respectable  country  place  to  go  to.  It 
would  be  nice  for  Scott  and  the  servants  and  the  horses ; 
and  you  and  I  need  not  stay  there  if  it  bores  us " 

"  Is  he  still  thinking  of  that  Roya-Neh  place  ?  It's 
horridly  expensive  to  keep  up.  Oh,  I  knew  quite  well 
that  Scott  would  bully  you  into  consenting " 

"  Roya-Neh  seems  to  suit  us  both,"  admitted  the 
girl  indifferently.  "  The  shooting  and  fishing  natu 
rally  attract  Scott;  they  say  it's  secluded  enough  for 
you  and  me  to  recuperate  in ;  and  if  we  ever  want  any 
guests,  it's  big  enough  to  entertain  dozens  in.  ...  I 
really  don't  care  one  way  or  the  other;  you  know  I 
never  was  very  crazy  about  the  country — and  poison 
ivy,  and  mosquitoes  and  oil-smelling  roads,  and  hot 
nights,  and  the  perfume  of  fertilisers " 

"  You  poor  child !  "  laughed  Kathleen ;  "  you  don't 
know  anything  about  the  country  except  where  you've 
been  on  Long  Island  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  your 
grandfather's  horrid  old  place." 

93 


"  Is  it  any  more  agreeable  up  there  near  Canada?  " 

"  Roya-Neh  is  very  lovely — of  course — but — it's 
certainly  not  a  wise  investment,  dear." 

"  Well,  if  Scott  and  I  buy  it,  we'd  never  wish  to 
sell  it " 

"  Suppose  you  were  obliged  to  ?  " 

Geraldine's  velvet  eyes  widened  lazily: 

"  Obliged  to  ?  Oh — yes — you  mean  if  we  went  to 
smash." 

Then  her  gaze  became  remote  as  she  stood  slowly 
tapping  her  gloved  palm  with  her  riding-crop. 

"  I  think  I'll  dress,"  she  said  absently. 

"  Good-bye,  then,"  nodded  Kathleen. 

"  Good-bye,"  said  the  girl,  turning  lightly  away 
across  the  hall.  Kathleen's  eyes  followed  the  slender 
retreating  figure,  so  slimly  compact  in  its  buoyancy. 
There  was  always  something  fascinatingly  boyish  in 
Geraldine's  light,  free  carriage — just  a  touch  of  care 
lessness  in  the  poise — almost  a  swing  at  times  to  the 
step.  Duane  had  once  said :  "  She  has  a  bully  walk !  " 
Kathleen  thought  of  it  as,  passing  a  mirror,  she  caught 
sight  of  herself.  And  the  sudden  glimpse  of  her  own 
warm,  rich  beauty  in  all  its  exquisite  maturity  startled 
her.  Surely  she  seemed  to  be  growing  younger. 

She  was.  Dark-violet  eyes,  ruddy  hair,  a  superb 
figure,  a  skin  so  white  that  it  looked  fragrant,  made 
Kathleen  Severn  amazingly  attractive.  Men  found  her, 
to  their  surprise,  rather  unresponsive.  She  was  amia 
ble  enough,  nicely  formal,  and  perfectly  bred,  it  is 
true,  but  inclined  to  that  sort  of  aloofness  which  is 
marked  by  lapses  of  inattention  and  the  smiling  silences 
of  preoccupation. 

She  had  married,  very  young,  an  army  officer  con 
valescing  from  Texan  fever.  He  died  suddenly  on  the 

94 


very  eve  of  their  postponed  wedding-trip.  This  was 
enough  to  account  for  lapses  of  inattention  in  any 
woman. 

But  Kathleen  Severn  had  never  been  demonstrative. 
She  was  slow  to  care  for  people.  Besides,  the  responsi 
bility  of  bringing  up  the  Seagrave  twins  had  been  suf 
ficient  to  subdue  anybody's  spirits.  She  was  only 
nineteen  and  a  widow  of  a  month  when  her  distant  rela 
tive,  Magnelius  Grandcourt,  found  her  the  position  as 
personal  guardian  of  the  twins,  then  aged  nine.  Now 
they  were  twenty-one  and  she  thirty-one;  twelve  years 
of  service,  twelve  years  of  steady  fidelity,  which  long 
ago  had  become  a  changeless  and  passionate  devotion, 
made  up  of  all  she  might  have  given  to  the  dead,  and 
of  the  unborn  happiness  she  had  never  known.  What 
other  sort  of  love,  if  there  was  any,  lay  within  her 
undeveloped,  nobody  knew  because  nobody  had  ever 
aroused  it. 

Sunshine  transformed  into  great  golden  transpar 
encies  the  lowered  shades  in  the  living  room  where  Ger- 
aldine  stood,  pensive,  distraite,  idly  twirling  her  crop 
by  the  loop.  Presently  it  flew  off  her  gloved  forefinger 
and  fell  clattering  across  the  carpetless  floor.  She 
bathed  and  dressed  leisurely ;  later,  when  luncheon  was 
brought  to  her,  she  dropped  into  a  low,  wide  chair  and, 
ignoring  everything  except  the  strawberries,  turned 
her  face  to  the  breeze  which  was  softly  rattling  the 
southern  curtains. 

Errant  thoughts,  light  as  summer  fleece,  drifted 
across  her  mind.  Often,  in  such  moments,  she  strove 
to  realise  that  she  was  now  mistress  of  herself;  but 
never  could  completely. 

"  For  example :  if  I  want  to  buy  Roya-Neh,"  she 
mused,  biting  into  an  enormous  strawberry,  "  I  can  do 
8  95 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


it.  ...  All  I  have  to  do  is  to  say  that  I'll  buy  it.  ... 
And  I  can  live  there  if  I  choose — as  long  as  I  choose. 
.  .  .  It's  a  very  agreeable  sensation.  ...  I  can  have 
anything  I  fancy,  without  asking  Mr.  Tappan.  .  .  . 
It's  rather  odd  that  I  don't  want  anything." 

She  crossed  her  ankles  and  lay  back  watching  the 
sun-moats  floating. 

"  Suppose,"  she  murmured  with  perverse  humour, 
"  that  I  wished  to  build  a  bungalow  in  Timbuctoo  .  .  . 
or  stand  on  my  head,  now,  this  very  moment !  Nobody 
on  earth  could  stop  me.  ...  I  believe  I  will  stand  on 
my  head  for  a  change." 

The  sudden  smile  made  the  curve  of  her  cheek  deli 
cious.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  spread  her  napkin  on 
the  polished  floor,  then  gravely  bending  double,  placed 
both  palms  flat  on  the  square  of  damask,  balanced  and 
raised  her  body  until  the  straight,  slim  limbs  were  rig 
idly  pointed  toward  heaven. 

Down  tumbled  her  hair ;  her  cheeks  crimsoned ;  then 
dainty  as  a  lithe  and  spangled  athlete,  she  turned  clean 
over  in  the  air,  landing  lightly  on  both  feet  breathing 
fast. 

"  It's  disgraceful !  "  .  she  murmured ;  "  I  am  cer 
tainly  out  of  condition.  Late  hours  are  my  undoing. 
Also  cigarettes.  I  wish  I  didn't  like  to  smoke." 

She  lighted  one  and  strolled  about  the  room,  knot 
ting  up  her  dark  hair,  heels  clicking  sharply  over  the 
bare,  polished  floor. 

Lacking  a  hair-peg,  she  sauntered  off  to  her  own 
apartments  to  find  one,  where  she  remained,  lolling  in 
the  chaise-longue,  alternately  blowing  smoke  rings  into 
the  sunshine  and  nibbling  a  bonbon  soaked  in  cologne. 
Only  a  girl  can  accomplish  such  combinations.  How 
she  ever  began  this  silly  custom  of  hers  she  couldn't 

96 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

remember,  except  that,  when  a  small  child,  somebody 
had  forbidden  her  to  taste  brandied  peach  syrup,  which 
she  adored;  and  the  odour  of  cologne  being  similarly 
pleasant,  she  had  tried  it  on  her  palate  and  found  that 
it  produced  agreeable  sensations. 

It  had  become  a  habit.  She  was  conscious  of  it,  but 
remained  indifferent  because  she  didn't  know  anything 
about  habits. 

So  all  that  sunny  afternoon  she  lay  in  the  chaise- 
longue,  alternately  reading  and  dreaming,  her  scented 
bonbons  at  her  elbow.  Later  a  maid  brought  tea; 
and  a  little  later  Duane  Mallett  was  announced.  He 
sauntered  in,  a  loosely  knit,  graceful  figure,  still 
wearing  his  riding-clothes  and  dusty  boots  of  the 
morning. 

Geraldine  Seagrave  had  had  time  enough  to  dis 
cover,  during  the  past  winter,  that  her  old  playfellow 
was  not  at  all  the  kind  of  man  he  appeared  to  be. 
Women  liked  him  too  easily  and  he  liked  them  without 
effort.  There  was  always  some  girl  in  love  with  him 
until  he  was  found  kissing  another.  His  tastes  were 
amiably  catholic ;  his  caress  instinctively  casual.  Beauty 
when  responsive  touched  him.  No  girl  he  knew  needed 
to  remain  unconsoled. 

The  majority  of  women  liked  him;  so  did  Geraldine 
Seagrave.  The  majority  instinctively  watched  him;  so 
did  she.  In  close  acquaintance  the  man  was  a  disap 
pointment.  It  seemed  as  though  there  ought  to  be 
something  deeper  in  him  than  the  lightly  humourous 
mockery  with  which  he  seemed  to  regard  his  very  great 
talent — a  flippancy  that  veiled  always  what  he  said 
and  did  and  thought  until  nobody  could  clearly  un 
derstand  what  he  really  thought  about  anything; 
and  some  people  doubted  that  he  thought  at  all — 

97 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


particularly  the  thoughtless  whom  he  had  carelessly 
consoled. 

Women  were  never  entirely  indifferent  concerning 
him;  there  remained  always  a  certain  amount  of  curi 
osity,  whether  they  found  him  attractive  or  otherwise. 

His  humourous  indifference  to  public  opinions,  bor 
dering  on  effrontery,  was  not  entirely  unattractive  to 
women,  but  it  always,  sooner  or  later,  aroused  their 
distrust. 

The  main  trouble  with  Duane  Mallett  seemed  to  be 
his  gaily  cynical  willingness  to  respond  to  any  advance, 
however  slight,  that  any  pretty  woman  offered.  This 
responsive  partiality  was  disconcerting  enough  to 
make  him  dreaded  by  ambitious  mothers,  and  an  object 
of  uneasy  interest  to  their  decorative  offspring  who 
were  inclined  to  believe  that  a  rescue  party  of  one  might 
bring  this  derelict  into  port  and  render  him  seaworthy 
for  the  voyage  of  life  under  their  own  particular 
command. 

Besides,  he  was  a  painter.  Women  like  them  when 
they  are  carefully  washed  and  clothed. 

As  Duane  Mallett  strolled  into  the  living-room, 
Geraldine  felt  again,  as  she  so  often  did,  a  slight  sense 
of  insecurity  mingle  with  her  liking  for  the  man,  or 
what  might  have  been  liking  if  she  could  ever  feel  abso 
lute  confidence  in  him.  She  had  been,  at  times,  very 
close  to  caring  a  great  deal  for  him,  when  now  and 
again  it  flashed  over  her  that  there  must  be  in  him 
something  serious  under  his  brilliant  talent  and  the  idle 
perversity  which  mocked  at  it. 

But  now  she  recognised  in  his  smile  and  manner 
everything  that  kept  her  from  ever  caring  to  under 
stand  him — the  old  sense  of  insecurity  in  his  ironical 

98 


formality;  and  her  outstretched  hand  fell  away  from 
his  with  indifference. 

"  I  didn't  have  the  happiness  of  riding  with  you, 
after  all,"  he  said,  serenely  seating  himself  and  drop 
ping  one  lank  knee  over  the  other.  "  Promises  wouldn't 
be  valuable  unless  somebody  broke  a  lot  now  and  then." 

"  You  probably  had  the  happiness  of  riding  with 
some  other  woman." 

He  nodded. 

"Who,  this  time?" 

"Rosalie  Dysart." 

Rumour  had  been  busy  with  their  names  recently.. 
The  girl's  face  became  expressionless. 

"  Sorry  you  didn't  come,"  he  said,  looking  out  of 
the  window  where  the  flapping  shade  revealed  a  lilac 
in  bloom. 

"  How  long  did  you  wait  for  me?  " 

"  About  a  minute.     Then  Rosalie  passed " 

"  Rosalies  will  always  continue  to  pass  through  your 
career,  my  omnivorous  friend.  .  .  .  Did  it  even  occur 
to  you  to  ride  over  here  and  find  out  why  I  missed  our 
appointment  ?  " 

"  No;  why  didn't  you  come?  " 

"  Bibi  went  lame.  I'd  have  had  another  horse  sad 
dled  if  I  hadn't  seen  you,  over  my  shoulder,  join  Mrs. 
Dysart." 

"  Too  bad,"  he  commented  listlessly. 

"  Why  ?  You  had  a  perfectly  good  time  without 
me,  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  pretty  good.  Delancy  Grandcourt  was 
out  after  luncheon,  and  when  Rosalie  left  he  stuck  to 
me  and  talked  about  you  until  I  let  my  horse  bolt,  and 
it  stirred  up  a  few  mounted  policemen  and  riding- 
schools,  I  can  tell  you !  " 

99 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  Oh,  so  you  lunched  with  Mrs.  Dysart?  " 

"Yes.     Where  is  Kathleen?" 

"  Driving,"  said  the  girl  briefly.  "  If  you  don't 
care  for  any  tea,  there  is  mineral  water  and  a  decanter 
over  there." 

He  thanked  her,  rose  and  mixed  himself  what  he 
wanted,  and  began  to  walk  leisurely  about,  the  ice  tin 
kling  in  the  glass  which  he  held.  At  intervals  he 
quenched  his  thirst,  then  resumed  his  aimless  prome 
nade,  a  slight  smile  on  his  face. 

"  Has  anything  particularly  interesting  happened 
to  you,  Duane  ?  "  she  asked,  and  somehow  thought  of 
Rosalie  Dysart. 

"  No." 

"  How  are  your  pictures  coming  on  ?  " 

"  The  portrait  ?  "  he  asked  absently. 

"  Portrait  ?  I  thought  all  the  very  grand  ladies 
you  paint  had  left  town.  Whose  portrait  are  you 
painting?  " 

Before  he  answered,  before  he  even  hesitated,  she 
knew. 

"  Rosalie  Dysart's,"  he  said,  gazing  absently  at  the 
lilac-bush  in  flower  as  the  wind-blown  curtain  revealed 
it  for  a  moment. 

She  lifted  her  dark  eyes  curiously.  He  began  to 
stir  the  ice  in  his  glass  with  a  silver  paper-cutter. 

"  She  is  wonderfully  beautiful,  isn't  she  ?  "  said  the 
girl. 

"  Overwhelmingly." 

Geraldine  shrugged  and  gazed  into  space.  She 
didn't  exactly  know  why  she  had  given  that  little  hitch 
to  her  shoulders. 

"  I'd  like  to  paint  Kathleen,"  he  observed. 

A  flush  tinted  the  girl's  cheeks.  She  said  nervously : 
100 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

"Why  don't  you  ask  her?" 

"  I've  meant  to.  Somehow,  one  doesn't  ask  things 
lightly  of  Kathleen." 

"  One  doesn't  ask  things  of  some  women  at  all,"  she 
remarked. 

He  looked  up ;  she  was  examining  her  empty  teacup 
with  fixed  interest. 

"Ask  what  sort  of  thing?"  he  inquired,  walking 
over  to  the  table  and  resting  his  glass  on  it. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I  meant.  Nothing.  What 
is  that  in  your  glass?  Let  me  taste  it.  ...  Ugh! 
It's  Scotch!" 

She  set  back  the  glass  with  a  shudder.  After  a 
few  moments  she  picked  it  up  again  and  tasted  it  dis 
dainfully. 

"  Do  you  like  this  ?  "  she  demanded  with  youthful 
contempt. 

"  Pretty  well,"  he  admitted. 

"  It  tastes  something  like  brandied  peaches,  doesn't 
it?" 

"  I  never  noticed  that  it  did." 

And  as  he  remained  smilingly  aloof  and  silent,  at 
intervals,  tentatively,  uncertain  whether  or  not  she  ex 
actly  cared  for  it,  she  tasted  the  iced  contents  of  the 
tall,  frosty  glass  and  watched  him  where  he  sat  loosely 
at  ease  flicking  at  sun-moats  with  the  loop  of  his  riding- 
crop. 

"  I'd  like  to  see  a  typical  studio,"  she  said  reflec 
tively. 

"  I've  asked  you  to  mine  often  enough." 

"  Yes,  to  tea  with  other  people.  I  don't  mean  that 
way.  I'd  like  to  see  it  when  it's  not  all  dusted  and  in 
order  for  feminine  inspection.  I'd  like  to  see  a  man's 
studio  when  it's  in  shape  for  work — with  the  gr-r-reat 

101 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


painter  in  a  fine  frenzy  painting,  and  the  model  posing 
madly " 

"  Come  on,  then !  If  Kathleen  lets  you,  and  you  can 
stand  it,  come  down  and  knock  some  day  unexpectedly." 

"  O  Duane !    I  couldn't,  could  I?  " 

"  Not  with  propriety.     But  come  ahead." 

"  Naturally,  impropriety  appeals  to  you." 

"  Naturally.     To  you,  too,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  No.  But  wouldn't  it  astonish  you  if  you  heard  a 
low,  timid  knocking  some  day  when  you  and  your  Bo 
hemian  friends  were  carousing  and  having  a  riotous 
time  there " 

"  Yes,  it  would,  but  I'm  afraid  that  low,  timid 
knocking  couldn't  be  heard  in  the  infernal  uproar  of 
our  usual  revelry." 

"  Then  I'd  knock  louder  and  louder,  and  perhaps 
kick  once  or  twice  if  you  didn't  come  to  the  door  and 
let  me  in." 

He  laughed.  After  a  moment  she  laughed,  too ;  her 
dark  eyes  were  very  friendly  now.  Watching  the 
amusement  in  his  face,  she  continued  to  sip  from  his 
tall,  frosted  glass,  quite  unconscious  of  any  distaste 
for  it.  On  the  contrary,  she  experienced  a  slight 
exhilaration  which  was  gradually  becoming  delightful 
to  her. 

"  Scotch-and-soda  is  rather  nice,  after  all,"  she  ob 
served.  "  I  had  no  idea —  What  is  the  matter  with 
you,  Duane  ?  " 

"  You  haven't  swallowed  all  that,  have  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  is  it  much?" 

He  stared,  then  with  a  shrug :  "  You'd  better  cut 
out  that  sort  of  thing." 

"What?"  she  asked,  surprised. 

"  What  you're  doing." 

102 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Tasting  your  Scotch?  Pooh !  "  she  said,  "  it  isn't 
strong.  Do  you  think  I'm  a  baby?" 

"  Go  ahead,"  he  said,  "  it's  your  funeral." 

Legs  crossed,  chin  resting  on  the  butt  of  his  riding- 
crop,  he  lay  back  in  his  chair  watching  her. 

Women  of  her  particular  type  had  always  fasci 
nated  him;  Fifth  Avenue  is  thronged  with  them  in 
sunny  winter  mornings — tall,  slender,  faultlessly 
gowned  girls,  free-limbed,  narrow  of  wrist  and  foot; 
cleanly  built,  engaging,  fearless-eyed;  and  Geraldine 
was  one  of  a  type  characteristic  of  that  city  and  of  the 
sunny  Avenue  where  there  pass  more  beautiful  women 
on  a  December  morning  than  one  can  see  abroad  in  half 
a  dozen  years'  residence. 

How  on  earth  this  hemisphere  has  managed  to 
evolve  them  out  of  its  original  material  nobody  can 
explain.  And  young  Mallett,  recently  from  the  older 
hemisphere,  was  still  in  a  happy  trance  of  surprise  at 
the  discovery. 

Lounging  there,  watching  her  where  she  sat  warmly 
illumined  by  the  golden  light  of  the  window-shade,  he 
said  lazily: 

"  Do  you  know  that  Fifth  Avenue  is  always 
thronged  with  you,  Geraldine?  I've  nearly  twisted  my 
head  off  trying  not  to  miss  the  assorted  visions  of  you 
which  float  past  afoot  or  driving.  Some  day  one  of 
them  will  unbalance  me.  I'll  leap  into  her  victoria, 
ask  her  if  she'd  mind  the  temporary  inconvenience  of 
being  adored  by  a  stranger ;  and  if  she's  a  good  sport 
she'll  take  a  chance.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  " 

"  It's  more  than  I'd  take  with  you,"  said  the  girl. 

"  You've  said  that  several  times." 

He  laughed,  then  looked  up  at  her  half  humorously, 
half  curiously. 

103 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You  would  be  taking  no  chances,  Geraldine." 

"  I'd  be  taking  chances  of  finding  you  holding  some 
other  girl's  hands  within  twenty-four  hours.  And  you 
know  it." 

"  Hasn't  anybody  ever  held  yours  ?  " 

Displeasure  tinted  her  cheeks  a  deeper  red,  but  she 
merely  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

It  was  true  that  in  the  one  evanescent  and  secret 
affair  of  her  first  winter  she  had  not  escaped  the  calf- 
like  transports  of  Bunbury  Gray.  She  had  felt,  if  she 
had  not  returned  them,  the  furtively  significant  press 
ure  of  men's  hands  in  the  gaiety  and  whirl  of  things; 
ardent  and  chuckle-headed  youth  had  declared  itself  in 
conservatories  and  in  corners;  one  impetuous  mauling 
from  a  smitten  Harvard  boy  of  eighteen  had  left  her 
furiously  vexed  with  herself  for  her  passive  attitude 
while  the  tempest  passed.  True,  she  had  vigorously  re 
proved  him  later.  She  had,  alas,  occasion,  during  her 
first  season,  to  reprove  several  demonstrative  young 
men  for  their  unconventionally  athletic  manner  of  de 
claring  their  suits.  She  had  been  far  more  severe  with 
the  humble,  unattractive,  and  immobile,  however,  than 
with  the  audacious  and  ornamental  who  had  at 
tempted  to  take  her  by  storm.  A  sudden  if  awk 
ward  kiss  followed-  by  the  fiery  declaration  of  the 
hot-headed  disturbed  her  less  than  the  persistent 
stare  of  an  enamoured  pair  of  eyes.  As  a  child 
the  description  of  an  assault  on  a  citadel  always  inter 
ested  her,  but  she  had  neither  sympathy  nor  interest 
in  a  siege. 

Now,  musing  there  in  the  sunlight  on  the  events  of 
her  first  winter,  she  became  aware  that  she  had  been 
more  or  less  instructed  in  the  ways  of  men ;  and,  re 
membering,  she  lifted  her  disturbed  eyes  to  inspect  this 

104 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

specimen  of  a  sex  which  often  perplexed  but  always 
interested  her. 

"  What  are  you  smiling  about,  Duane  ?  "  she  asked 
defiantly. 

"  Your  arraignment  of  me  when  half  the  men  in 
town  have  been  trying  to  marry  you  all  winter.  You've 
made  a  reputation  for  yourself,  too,  Geraldine." 

"  As  what  ?  "  she  asked  angrily. 

"  A  head-twister." 

"  Do  you  mean  a  flirt  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Lord !  Only  the  French  use  that  term  now. 
But  that's  the  idea,  Geraldine.  You  are  a  born  one.  I 
fell  for  the  first  smile  you  let  loose  on  me." 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  a  sort  of  general  Humpty 
Dumpty  for  falls  all  your  life,  Duane,"  she  said  with 
dangerous  sweetness. 

"  Like  that  immortal,  I've  had  only  one  which  per 
manently  shattered  me." 

"  Which  was  that,  if  you  please?  " 

"  The  fall  you  took  out  of  me." 

"  In  other  words,"  she  said  disdainfully,  "  you  are 
beginning  to  make  love  to  me  again." 

"  No.  ...  I  was  in  love  with  you." 

"  You  were  in  love  with  yourself,  young  man. 
You  are  on  such  excellent  terms  with  yourself  that 
you  sympathise  too  ardently  with  any  attractive  wom 
an  who  takes  the  least  and  most  innocent  notice  of 
you." 

He  said,  very  much  amused :  "  I  was  perfectly  seri 
ous  over  you,  Geraldine." 

"  The  selfish  always  take  themselves  seriously." 

It  was  she,  however,  who  now  sat  there  bright-eyed 
and  unsmiling,  and  he  was  still  laughing,  deftly  bal 
ancing  his  crop  on  one  finger,  and  glancing  at  her  from 

105 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


time  to  time  with  that  glimmer  of  ever-latent  mockery 
which  always  made  her  restive  at  first,  then  irritated 
her  with  an  unreasoning  desire  to  hurt  him  somehow. 
But  she  never  seemed  able  to  reach  him. 

"  Sooner  or  later,"  she  said,  "  women  will  find  you 
out,  thoroughly." 

"  And  then,  just  think  what  a  rush  there  will  be 
to  marry  me !  " 

"  There  will  be  a  rush  to  avoid  you,  Duane.  And  it 
will  set  in  before  you  know  it — "  She  thought  of  the 
recent  gossip  coupling  his  name  with  Rosalie's,  red 
dened  and  bit  her  lip  in  silence.  But  somehow  the 
thought  irritated  her  into  speech  again: 

"  Fortunately,  I  was  among  the  first  to  find  you  out 
—the  first,  I  think." 

"  Heavens!  when  was  that?  "  he  asked  in  pretended 
concern,  which  infuriated  her. 

"  You  had  better  not  ask  me,"  she  flashed  back. 
"  When  a  woman  suddenly  discovers  that  a  man  is  un 
trustworthy,  do  you  think  she  ever  forgets  it  ?  " 

"  Because  I  once  kissed  you?  What  a  dreadful 
deed!" 

"  You  forget  the  circumstances  under  which  you 
did  it." 

He  flushed ;  she  had  managed  to  hurt  him,  after  all. 
He  began  patiently: 

"  I've  explained  to  you  a  dozen  times  that  I  didn't 
know " 

"But  I  told  you!" 

"  And  I  couldn't  believe  you " 

"  But  you  expect  me  to  believe  you?  " 

He  could  not  exactly  interpret  her  bright,  smiling, 
steady  gaze. 

"  The  trouble  with  you  is,"  she  said,  "  that  there 
106 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

is  nothing  to  you  but  good  looks  and  talent. 
There  was  once,  but  it  died — over  in  Europe — some 
where.  No  woman  trusts  a  man  like  you.  Don't  you 
know  it?  " 

His  smile  did  not  seem  to  be  very  genuine,  but  he 
answered  lightly: 

"  When  I  ask  people  to  have  confidence  in  me,  it  will 
be  time  for  them  to  pitch  into  me." 

"  Didn't  you  once  ask  me  for  your  confidence — and 
then  abuse  it?  "  she  demanded. 

"  I  told  you  I  loved  you — if  that  is  what  you  mean. 
And  you  doubted  it  so  strenuously  that,  perhaps  I 
might  be  excused  for  doubting  it  myself.  .  .  .  What  is 
the  use  of  talking  this  way,  Geraldine?  " 

There  was  a  ring  of  exasperation  in  her  laughter. 
She  lifted  his  glass,  sipped  a  little,  and,  looking  over  it 
at  him: 

"  I  drink  to  our  doubts  concerning  each  other :  may 
nothing  ever  occur  to  disturb  them." 

Her  cheeks  had  begun  to  burn,  her  eyes  were  too 
bright,  her  voice  unmodulated. 

"  Whether  or  not  you  ever  again  take  the  trouble 
to  ask  me  to  trust  you  in  that  way,"  she  said,  "  I'll  tell 
you  now  why  I  don't  and  why  I  never  could.  It  may 
amuse  you.  Shall  I?  " 

"  By  all  means,"  he  replied  amiably ;  "  but  it  seems 
to  me  as  though  you  are  rather  rough  on  me." 

"  You  were  rougher  with  me  the  first  time  I  saw 
you,  after  all  those  years.  I  met  you  with  perfect  con 
fidence,  remembering  what  you  once  were.  It  was  my 
first  grown-up  party.  I  was  only  a  fool  of  a  girl, 
merely  ignorant,  unfit  to  be  trusted  with  a  liberty  I'd 
never  before  had.  .  .  .  And  I  took  one  glass  of  cham 
pagne  and  it — you  know  what  it  did.  .  .  .  And  I  was 

107 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


bewildered  and  frightened,  and  I  told  you;  and — you 
perhaps  remember  how  my  confidence  in  my  old  play 
fellow  was  requited.  Do  you  ?  " 

Reckless  impulse  urged  her  on.  Heart  and  pulses 
were  beating  very  fast  with  a  persistent  desire  to  hurt 
him.  Her  animation,  brilliant  colour,  her  laughter 
seemed  to  wing  every  word  like  an  arrow.  She  knew  he 
shrank  from  what  she  was  saying,  in  spite  of  his  polite 
attention,  and  her  fresh,  curved  cheek  and  parted  lips 
took  on  a  brighter  tint.  Something  was  singing, 
seething  in  her  veins.  She  lifted  her  glass,  set  it  down, 
and  suddenly  pushed  it  from  her  so  violently  that  it 
fell  with  a  crash.  A  wave  of  tingling  heat  mounted  to 
her  face,  receded,  swept  back  again.  Confused,  she 
straightened  up  in  her  chair,  breathing  fast.  What 
was  coming  over  her?  Again  the  wave  surged  back 
with  a  deafening  rush;  her  senses  struggled,  the 
blood  in  her  ran  riot.  Then  terror  clutched  her. 
Neither  lips  nor  tongue  were  very  flexible  when  she 
spoke. 

"  Duane — if  you  don't  mind — would  you  go  away 
now?  I've  a  wretched  headache." 

He  shrugged  and  stood  up. 

"  It's  curious,"  he  said  reflectively,  "  how  utterly 
determined  we  seem  to  be  to  misunderstand  each  other. 
If  you  would  give  me  half  a  chance — well — never  mind." 

"  I  wish  you  would  go,"  she  murmured,  "  I  really 
am  not  well."  She  could  scarcely  hear  her  own  voice 
amid  the  deafening  tumult  of  her  pulses.  Fright  stiff 
ened  the  fixed  smile  on  her  lips.  Her  plight  paralysed 
her  for  a  moment. 

"  Yes,  I'll  go,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "  I  usually 
am  going  somewhere — most  of  the  time." 

He  picked  up  hat,  gloves,  and  crop,  looked  down  at 
108 


her,  came  and  stood  at  the  table,  resting  one  hand  on 
the  edge. 

"  We're  pretty  young  yet,  Geraldine.  ...  I  never 
saw  a  girl  I  cared  for  as  I  might  have  cared  for  you. 
It's  true,  no  matter  what  I  have  done,  or  may  do.  .  .  . 
But  you're  quite  right,  a  man  of  that  sort  isn't  to  be 
considered " — he  laughed  and  pulled  on  one  glove — 
"  only — I  knew  as  soon  as  I  saw  you  that  it  was  to  be 
you  or — everybody.  First,  it  was  anybody ;  then  it  was 
you — now  it's  everybody.  Good-bye." 

"  Good-bye,"  she  managed  to  say.  The  dizzy  waves 
swayed  her;  she  rested  her  cheeks  between  both  hands 
and,  leaning  there  heavily,  closed  her  eyes  to  fight 
against  it.  She  had  been  seated  on  the  side  of  a  lounge ; 
and  now,  feeling  blindly  behind  her,  she  moved  the  cush 
ions  aside,  turned  and  dropped  among  them,  burying 
her  blazing  face.  Over  her  the  scorching  vertigo 
swept,  subsided,  rose,  and  swept  again.  Oh,  the  horror 
of  it ! — the  shame,  the  agonised  surprise.  What  was 
this  dreadful  thing  that,  for  the  second  time,  she  had 
unwittingly  done?  And  this  time  it  was  so  much  more 
terrible.  How  could  such  an  accident  have  happened 
to  her?  How  could  she  face  her  own  soul  in  the  dis 
grace  of  it? 

Fear,  loathing,  frightened  incredulity  that  this 
could  really  be  herself,  stiffened  her  body  and  clinched 
her  hands  under  her  parted  lips.  On  them  her  hot 
breath  fell  irregularly. 

Rigid,  motionless,  she  lay,  breathing  faster  and  more 
feverishly.  Tears  came  after  a  long  while,  and  with 
them  relaxation  and  lassitude.  She  felt  that  the 
dreadful  thing  which  had  seized  and  held  her  was  let 
ting  go  its  hold,  was  freeing  her  body  and  mind;  and 
as  it  slowly  released  her  and  passed  on  its  terrible 

109 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


silent  way,  she  awoke  and  sat  up  with  a  frightened 
cry — to  find  herself  lying  on  her  own  bed  in  utter 
darkness. 

A  moment  later  her  bedroom  door  opened  without 
a  sound  and  the  light  from  the  hall  streamed  over  Kath 
leen's  bare  shoulders  and  braided  hair. 

"Geraldine?" 

The  girl  scarcely  recognised  Kathleen's  altered 
voice.  She  lay  listening,  silent,  motionless,  staring  at 
the  white  figure. 

"  Dearest,  I  thought  you  called  me.  May  I  come 
in?" 

"  I  am  not  well." 

But  Kathleen  entered  and  stood  beside  the  bed,  look 
ing  down  at  her  in  the  dim  light. 

"  Dearest,"  she  began  tremulously,  "  Duane  told  me 
you  had  a  headache  and  had  gone  to  your  room  to  lie 
down,  so  I  didn't  disturb  you " 

"  Duane,"  faltered  the  girl,  "  is  he  here  ?  What  did 
he  say  ?  " 

"  He  was  in  the  library  before  dinner  when  I  came 
in,  and  he  warned  me  not  to  waken  you.  Do  you  know 
what  time  it  is  ?  " 

w  No." 

"  It  is  after  midnight.  ...  If  you  feel  ill  enough 
to  lie  here,  you  ought  to  be  undressed.  May  I  help 
you?" 

There  was  no  answer.  For  a  moment  Kathleen 
stood  looking  down  at  the  girl  in  silence ;  then  a  sud 
den  shivering  seized  her;  she  strove  to  control  it,  but 
her  knees  seemed  to  give  way  under  it  and  she  dropped 
down  beside  the  bed,  throwing  both  arms  around  Ger- 
aldine's  neck. 

"  Oh,  don't,  don't!  "  she  whimpered.  "  It  is  too  ter- 
110 


.22 

o 


_= 

O 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

rible!  It  ruined  your  father  and  your  grandfather! 
Darling,  I  couldn't  bear  to  tell  you  this  before,  but  now 
I've  got  to  tell  you!  It  is  in  your  blood.  Seagraves 
die  of  it !  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  W-what?  "  stammered  the  girl. 

"  That  all  their  lives  they  did  what — what  you  have 
done  to-day — that  you  have  inherited  their  terrible  in 
clinations.  Even  as  a  little  child  you  frightened  me. 
Have  you  forgotten  what  you  and  I  talked  over  and 
cried  over  after  your  first  party?  " 

The  girl  said  slowly :  "  I  don't  know  how — it — hap 
pened,  Kathleen.  Duane  came  in.  ...  I  tasted  what 
he  had  in  his  glass.  ...  I  don't  know  why  I  did  it. 
I  wish  I  were  dead !  " 

"  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do — never  to  touch 
anything — anything " 

"  Y-yes,  I  know  that  I  must  not.  But  how  was  I 
to  know  before?  Will  you  tell  me?  " 

"  You  understand  now,  thank  God !  " 

"  N-not  exactly.  .  .  .  Other  girls  seem  to  do  as 
they  please  without  danger.  ...  It  is  amazing  that 
such  a  horrible  thing  should  happen  to  me " 

"  It  is  a  shameful  thing  that  it  should  happen  to 
any  woman.  And  the  horror  of  it  is  that  almost  every 
hostess  in  town  lets  girls  of  your  age  run  the  risk. 
Darling,  don't  you  know  that  the  only  chance  a  woman 
has  with  the  world  is  in  her  self-control?  When  that 
goes,  her  chances  go,  every  one  of  them!  Dear — we 
have  latent  in  us  much  the  same  vices  that  men  have. 
We  have  within  us  the  same  possibilities  of  temptations, 
the  same  capacity  for  excesses,  the  same  capabilities  for 
resistance.  Because  you  are  a  girl,  you  are  not  immune 
from  unworthy  desires." 

"  I  know  it.  The — the  dreadful  thing  about  it  is 
111 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


that  I  do  desire  such  things.  Perhaps  I  had  better  not 
even  nibble  sugar  scented  with  cologne " 

"  Do  you  do  that ?  "  faltered  Kathleen. 

"  I  did  not  know  there  was  any  danger  in  it,"  sobbed 
the  girl.  "  You  have  scared  me  terribly,  Kathleen." 

"  Is  that  true  about  the  cologne  ?  " 

"  Y-yes." 

"  You  don't  do  it  now,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  don't  do  it  every  day,  do  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  several  times." 

"  How  long  " — Kathleen's  lips  almost  refused  to 
move — "  how  long  have  you  done  this  ?  " 

"  For  a  long  time.  I've  been  ashamed  of  it.  It's — 
it's  the  alcohol  in  it  that  I  like,  isn't  it?  I  never 
thought  of  it  in  that  way  till  now." 

Kathleen,  on  her  knees  by  the  bedside,  was  crying 
silently.  The  girl  slipped  from  her  arms,  turned  partly 
over,  and  lying  on  her  back,  stared  upward  through  the 
darkness. 

So  this  was  the  secret  reason  that,  unsuspected,  had 
long  been  stirring  her  to  instinctive  uneasiness,  which 
had  made  her  half  ashamed,  half  impatient  with  this 
silly  habit  which  already  inconvenienced  her.  Yet  even 
now  she  could  not  feel  any  real  alarm;  she  could  not 
understand  that  the  fangs  of  a  habit  can  poison  when 
plucked  out.  Of  course  there  was  now  only  one  thing 
to  do — keep  aloof  from  everything.  That  would  be 
easy.  The  tingling  warmth  of  the  perfume  was  cer 
tainly  agreeable,  but  she  must  not  risk  even  such  a  silly 
indulgence  as  that.  Really,  it  was  a  very  simple  matter. 
She  sat  up,  supporting  her  weight  on  one  arm. 

"  Kathleen,  darling,"  she  whispered,  bending  for 
ward  and  drawing  the  elder  woman  up  onto  the  bed, 

112 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

"  you   mustn't  be  frightened  about  me.     I've  learned 
some  things  I  didn't  know.     Do  you  think  Duane — 
In  the  darkness  the  blood  scorched  her  face,  the  hu 
miliation  almost  crushed  her.     But  she  went  on :  "  Do 
you  think  Duane  suspects  that — that " 

"  I  don't  think  Duane  suspects  anything,"  said 
Kathleen,  striving  to  steady  her  voice.  "  You  came  in 
here  as  soon  as  you  felt — ill ;  didn't  you  ?  " 

"  I— yes " 

She  could  say  no  more.  How  she  came  to  be  on  her 
bed  in  her  own  room  she  could  not  remember.  It 
seemed  to  her  as  though  she  had  fallen  asleep  on  the 
lounge.  Somehow,  after  Duane  had  gone,  she  must 
have  waked  and  gone  to  her  own  room.  But  she  could 
not  recollect  doing  it. 

Now  she  realised  that  she  was  tired,  wretched,  fev 
erish.  She  suffered  Kathleen  to  undress  her,  comb  her 
hair,  bathe  her,  and  dry  the  white,  slender  body  and 
limbs  in  which  the  veins  still  burned  and  throbbed. 

When  at  length  she  lay  between  the  cool  sheets,  si 
lent,  limp,  heavy-lidded,  Kathleen  turned  out  the  elec 
tric  brackets  and  lighted  the  candle. 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  trying  to  speak  cheerfully,  "  do 
you  know  what  your  brother  has  done?  " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Geraldine  drowsily. 

"  He  has  bought  Roya-Neh,  if  you  please,  and  he 
invites  you  to  draw  a  check  for  half  of  it  and  to  move 
there  next  week.  As  for  me,  I  was  furious  with  him. 
What  do  you  think?" 

Her  voice  softened  to  a  whisper;  she  bent  over  the 
girl,  looking  closely  at  the  closed  lids.  Under  them  a 
faint  bluish  tint  faded  into  the  whiteness  of  the  cheek. 

"  Darling,  darling !  "  whispered  Kathleen,  bending 
closer  over  the  sleeping  girl,  "  I  love  you  so — I  love 

113 


you  so !  "  And  even  as  she  said  it,  between  the  sleep 
er's  features  and  her  own  floated  the  vision  of  Scott's 
youthfully  earnest  face;  and  she  straightened  suddenly 
to  her  full  height  and  laid  her  hand  on  her  breast  in 
consternation.  Under  the  fingers'  soft  pressure  her 
heart  beat  faster.  Again,  with  new  dismay,  this  in 
credible  sensation  was  stealing  upon  her,  threatening 
to  transform  itself  into  something  real,  something  defi 
nite,  something  not  to  be  stifled  or  ignored. 

She  extinguished  the  candle;  as  she  felt  her  way 
out  of  the  darkness,  arms  extended,  far  away  ia  the 
house  she  heard  a  door  open  and  shut,  and  she  bent 
over  the  balustrade  to  listen. 

"  Is  that  you,  Scott?  "  she  called  softly. 

"  Yes ;  Duane  and  I  did  some  billiards  at  the  club." 
He  looked  up  at  her,  the  same  slight  pucker  between 
his  brows,  boyishly  slender  in  his  evening  dress. 
"  You're  not  going  to  bed  at  once,  are  you,  Kathleen, 
dear?" 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  said  briefly,  backing  into  her  own 
room,  but  holding  the  door  ajar  so  that  she  could  look 
out  at  him. 

"  Oh,  come  out  and  talk  to  a  fellow,"  he  urged ; 
"  I'm  quite  excited  about  this  Roya-Neh  business " 

"  You're  a  perfect  wretch,  Scott.  I  don't  want  to 
talk  about  your  unholy  extravagance." 

The  boy  laughed  and  stood  at  ease  looking  at  the 
pretty  face  partly  disclosed  between  door  and  wall  with 
darkness  for  a  velvety  background. 

"  Just  come  out  into  the  library  while  I  smoke  one 
cigarette,"  he  began  in  his  wheedling  way.  "  I'm  dying 
to  talk  to  you  about  the  game-preserve " 

"  I  can't ;  I'm  not  attired  for  a  tete-a-tete  with  any 
thing  except  my  pillow." 

114 


THE    YEAR    OF   DISCRETION 

"  Then  put  on  one  of  those  fetching  affairs  you 
wear  sometimes " 

"  Oh,  Scott,  you  are  a  nuisance !  " 

When,  a  few  moments  later,  she  came  into  the  li 
brary  in  a  delicate  shimmering  thing  and  little  slippers 
of  the  same  elusive  tint,  Scott  jumped  up  and  dragged 
a  big  chair  forward. 

"  You  certainly  are  stunning,  Kathleen,"  he  said 
frankly ;  "  you  look  twenty  with  all  the  charm  of  thirty. 
Sit  here;  I've  a  map  of  the  Roya-Neh  forest  to  show 
you." 

He  drew  up  a  chair  for  himself,  lifted  a  big  map 
from  the  table,  and,  unrolling  it,  laid  it  across  her 
knees.  Then  he  began  to  talk  enthusiastically  about 
lake  and  stream  and  mountain,  and  about  wild  boar  and 
deer  and  keepers  and  lodges;  and  she  bent  her  pretty 
head  over  the  map,  following  his  moving  pencil  with  her 
eyes,  sometimes  asking  a  question,  sometimes  tracing 
a  road  with  her  own  delicate  finger. 

Once  or  twice  it  happened  that  their  hands  touched 
en  passant;  and  at  the  light  contact,  she  was  vaguely 
aware  that  somewhere,  deep  within  her,  the  same  faint 
dismay  awoke ;  that  in  her,  buried  in  depths  unsuspected, 
something  incredible  existed,  stirred,  threatened. 

"  Scott,  dear,"  she  said  quietly,  "  I  am  glad  you 
are  happy  over  Roya-Neh  forest,  but  it  was  too  ex 
pensive,  and  it  troubles  me;  so  I'm  going  to  sleep  to 
dream  over  it." 

"  You  sweet  little  goose ! "  laughed  the  boy  im 
pulsively,  passing  his  arm  around  her.  He  had  done 
it  so  often  to  this  nurse  and  mother. 

They  both  rose  abruptly ;  the  map  dropped ;  his  arm 
fell  away  from  her  warm,  yielding  body. 

He  gazed  at  her  flushed  face  rather  stupidly,  not 
115 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


realising  yet  that  the  mother  and  nurse  and  elder  sis 
ter  had  vanished  like  a  tinted  bubble  in  that  strange 
instant — that  Kathleen  was  gone — that,  in  her  calm, 
sweet,  familiar  guise  stood  a  woman — a  stranger,  ex 
quisite,  youthful,  with  troubled  violet  eyes  and  vivid 
lips,  looking  at  him  as  though  for  the  first  time  she 
had  met  his  gaze  across  the  world. 

She  recovered  her  composure  instantly. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Scott,  but  I'm  too  sleepy  to  talk  any 
more.  Besides,  Geraldine  isn't  very  well,  and  I'm  going 
to  doze  with  one  eye  open.  Good-night,  dear." 

"  Good-night,"  said  the  boy  vacantly,  not  offering 
the  dutiful  embrace  to  which  he  and  she  had  so  long  and 
so  lightly  been  accustomed. 


CHAPTER    V 

EOYA-NEH 

LATE  on  a  fragrant  mid-June  afternoon  young 
Seagrave  stood  on  the  Long  Terrace  to  welcome  a 
guest  whose  advent  completed  a  small  house-party  of 
twelve  at  Roya-Neh. 

"  Hello,  Duane ! "  cried  the  youthful  landowner  in 
all  the  pride  of  new  possession,  as  Mallett  emerged  from 
the  motor ;  "  frightfully  glad  to  see  you,  old  fellow ! 
How  is  it  in  town?  Did  you  bring  your  own  rods? 
There  are  plenty  here.  What  do  you  think  of  my 
view  ?  Isn't  that  rather  fine  ?  " — looking  down  through 
the  trees  at  the  lake  below.  "  There  are  bass  in  it. 
Those  things  standing  around  under  the  oaks  are  only 
silly  English  fallow  deer.  Sorry  I  got  'em.  What  do 
you  think  of  my  house?  It's  merely  a  modern  affair 
worked  up  to  look  old  and  colonial.  .  .  .  Yes,  it  cer 
tainly  does  resemble  the  real  thing,  but  it  isn't.  No 
Seagraves  fit  and  bled  here.  Those  are  Geraldine's 
quarters  up  there  behind  the  leaded  windows.  Those 
are  Kathleen's  where  the  dinky  woodbine  twineth.  Mine 
face  the  east,  and  yours  are  next.  Come  on  out  into 
the  park ': 

"  Not  much !  "  returned  young  Mallett.  "  I  want 
a  bath!" 

"  The  park,"  interrupted  Scott  excitedly,  "  is  the 
largest  fenced  game-preserve  in  America !  It's  only  ten 
minutes  to  the  Sachem's  Gate,  if  we  walk  fast." 

117 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  I  want  a  bath  and  fresh  linen." 

"  Don't  you  care  to  see  the  trout  ?  Don't  you 
want  to  try  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  a  wild  boar?  I 
should  think  you'd  be  crazy  to  see " 

"  I'm  crazy  about  almost  any  old  thing  when  I'm 
well  scrubbed;  otherwise,  I'm  merely  crazy.  That  was 
a  wild  trip  up.  I'm  all  over  cinders." 

A  woman  came  quietly  out  onto  the  terrace,  and 
Duane  instantly  divined  it,  though  his  back  was  toward 
her  and  her  skirts  made  no  sound. 

"  Oh,  is  that  you,  Kathleen  ?  "  he  cried,  pivoting. 
"  How  d'ye  do  ?  "  with  a  vigorous  handshake.  "  Every 
time  I  see  you  you're  three  times  as  pretty  as  I  thought 
you  were  when  I  last  saw  you." 

"  Neat  but  involved,"  said  Kathleen  Severn.  "  You 
have  a  streak  of  cinder  across  that  otherwise  fasci 
nating  nose." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it !  I'm  going.  Where's  Ger- 
aldine?  " 

"  Having  her  hair  done  in  your  honour ;  return  the 
compliment  by  washing  your  face.  There's  a  maid 
inside  to  show  you." 

"  Show  me  how  to  wash  my  face !  "  exclaimed  Duane, 
delighted.  "  This  is  luxury " 

"  I  want  him  to  see  the  Gray  Water  before  it's  too 
late,  with  the  sunlight  on  the  trees  and  the  big  trout 
jumping,"  protested  Scott. 

"  I'll  do  my  own  jumping  if  you'll  furnish  the  tub," 
observed  Duane.  "  Where's  that  agreeable  maid  who 
washes  your  guests'  faces?  " 

Kathleen  nodded  an  amused  dismissal  to  them.  Arm 
in  arm  they  entered  the  house,  which  was  built  out  of 
squared  blocks  of  field  stone.  Scott  motioned  the  ser 
vants  aside  and  did  the  piloting  himself  up  a  broad 

118 


ROYA-NEH 


stone  stairs,  cast  along  a  wide  sunny  corridor  full  of 
nooks  and  angles  and  antique  sofas  and  potted  flowers. 

"  Not  that  way,"  he  said ;  "  Dysart  is  in  there  tak 
ing  a  nap.  Turn  to  the  left." 

"  Dysart  ?  "  repeated  Duane.  "  I  didn't  know  there 
was  to  be  anybody  else  here." 

"  I  asked  Jack  Dysart  because  he's  a  good  rod. 
Kathleen  raised  the  deuce  about  it  when  I  told  her,  but 
it  was  too  late.  Anyway,  I  didn't  know  she  had  no  use 
for  him.  He's  certainly  clever  at  dry-fly  casting.  He 
uses  pneumatic  bodies,  not  cork  or  paraffine." 

"  Is  his  wife  here?  "  asked  Duane  carelessly. 

"  Yes.  Geraldine  asked  her  as  soon  as  she  heard  I'd 
written  to  Jack.  But  when  I  told  her  the  next  day 
that  I  expected  you,  too,  she  got  mad  all  over,  and  we 
had  a  lively  talk-fest.  What  was  there  wrong  in  my 
having  you  and  the  Dysarts  here  at  the  same  time? 
Don't  you  get  on?  " 

"  Charmingly,"  replied  Duane  airily.  ..."  It  will 
be  very  interesting,  I  think.  Is  there  anybody  else 
here?" 

"  Delancy  Grandcourt.  Isn't  he  the  dead  one? 
But  Geraldine  wanted  him.  And  there's  that  stick  of 
a  Quest  girl,  and  Bunbury  Gray.  Nai'da  came  over 
this  afternoon  from  the  Tappans'  at  Iron  Hill — thank 
goodness " 

"  I  didn't  know  my  sister  was  to  be  here." 

"  Yes ;  and  you  make  twelve,  counting  Geraldine 
and  me  and  the  Pink  'uns." 

"  You  didn't  tell  me  it  was  to  be  a  round-up,"  re 
peated  Duane,  absently  surveying  his  chintz-hung  quar 
ters.  "  This  is  a  pretty  place  you've  given  me.  Where 
do  you  get  all  your  electric  lights?  Where  do  you 
get  fancy  plumbing  in  this  wilderness?" 
9  119 


"  Our  own  plant,"  explained  the  boy  proudly.  "  Isn't 
that  corking  water?  Look  at  it — heavenly  cold  and 
clear,  or  hot  as  hell,  whichever  way  you're  inclined — 
turning  on  a  silver  spigot  chiselled  like  a  cherub. 
"  That  water  comes  from  Cloudy  Lake,  up  there  on 
that  dome-shaped  mountain.  Here,  stand  here  beside 
me,  Duane,  and  you  can  see  it  from  your  window. 
That's  the  Gilded  Dome — that  big  peak.  It's  in  our 
park.  There  are  a  few  elk  on  it,  not  many,  because 
they'd  starve  out  the  deer.  As  it  is,  we  have  to  cut 
browse  in  winter.  For  Heaven's  sake,  hurry,  man! 
Get  into  your  bath  and  out  again,  or  we'll  miss 
the  trout  jumping  along  Gray  Water  and  Hurry  on 
Brook." 

"Let  'em  jump!"  retorted  Duane,  forcibly  eject 
ing  his  host  from  the  room  and  locking  the  door.  Then, 
lighting  a  cigarette,  he  strolled  into  the  bath  room  and 
started  the  water  running  into  the  porcelain  tub. 

He  was  in  excellent  spirits,  quite  undisturbed  by  the 
unexpected  proximity  of  Rosalie  Dysart  or  the  possi 
ble  renewal  of  their  hitherto  slightly  hazardous  friend 
ship.  He  laid  his  cigarette  aside  for  the  express  pur 
pose  of  whistling  while  undressing. 

Half  an  hour  later,  bathed,  shaved,  and  sartorially 
freshened,  he  selected  a  blue  corn-flower  from  the  rural 
bouquet  on  his  dresser,  drew  it  through  his  buttonhole, 
gave  a  last  alluring  twist  to  his  tie,  surveyed  himself 
in  the  mirror,  whistled  a  few  bars,  was  perfectly  satis 
fied  with  himself,  then,  unlocking  the  door,  strolled  out 
into  the  corridor.  Having  no  memory  for  direction, 
he  took  the  wrong  turn. 

A  distractingly  pretty  maid  laid  aside  her  sewing 
and  rose  from  her  chair  to  set  him  right ;  he  bestowed 
upon  her  his  most  courtly  thanks.  She  was  unusually 

120 


ROYA-NEH 


pretty,  so  he  thanked  her  again,  and  she  dimpled, 
one  hand  fingering  her  apron's  edge. 

"  My  child,"  said  he  gravely,  "  are  you  by  any 
fortunate  chance  as  good  as  you  are  ornamental?  " 

She  replied  that  she  thought  she  was. 

"  In  that  case,"  he  said,  "  this  is  one  of  those  rare 
occasions  in  a  thankless  world  where  goodness  is  amply 
and  instantly  rewarded." 

She  made  a  perfunctory  resistance,  but  looked 
after  him,  smiling,  as  he  sauntered  off  down  the  hall 
way,  rearranging  the  blue  corn-flower  in  his  button 
hole.  At  the  turn  by  the  window,  where  potted  posies 
stood,  he  encountered  Rosalie  Dysart  in  canoe  costume 
— sleeves  rolled  up,  hair  loosened,  becomingly  tanned, 
and  entirely  captivating  in  her  thoughtfully  arranged 
disarray. 

"  Why,  Duane !  "  she  exclaimed,  offering  both  her 
hands  with  that  impulsively  unstudied  gesture  she  care 
fully  cultivated  for  such  occasions. 

He  took  them ;  he  always  took  what  women  offered. 

"  This  is  very  jolly,"  he  said,  retaining  the  hands 
and  examining  her  with  unfeigned  admiration.  "  Tell 
me,  Mrs.  Dysart,  are  you  by  any  fortunate  chance  as 
good  as  you  are  ornamental?" 

"  I  heard  you  ask  that  of  the  maid  around  the 
corner,"  said  Rosalie  coolly.  "  Don't  let  the  bucolic 
go  to  your  head,  Mr.  Mallett."  And  she  disengaged 
her  hands,  crossed  them  behind  her,  and  smiled  back 
at  him.  It  was  his  punishment.  Her  hands  were  very 
pretty  hands,  and  well  worth  holding. 

"  That  maid,"  he  said  gravely,  "  has  excellent 
manners.  I  merely  complimented  her  upon  them.  .  .  . 
What  else  did  you — ah — hear,  Mrs.  Dysart?  " 

"  What  one  might  expect  to  hear  wherever  you  are 
121 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


concerned.  I  don't  mind.  The  things  you  do  rather 
gracefully  seem  only  offensive  when  other  men  do  them. 
.  .  .  Have  you  just  arrived?" 

"  An  hour  ago.     Did  you  know  I  was  coming?  "    . 

"  Geraldine  mentioned  it  to  everybody,  but  I  don't 
think  anybody  swooned  at  the  news.  .  .  .  My  husband 
is  here." 

She  still  confronted  him,  hands  behind  her,  with 
an  audacity  which  challenged — her  whole  being  was 
always  a  delicate  and  perpetual  challenge.  There  are 
such  women.  Over  her  golden-brown  head  the  late 
summer  sunlight  fell,  outlining  her  full,  supple  figure 
and  bared  arms  with  a  rose  light. 

"Well?"  she  asked. 

"  If  only  you  were  as  good  as  you  are  ornamental," 
he  said,  looking  at  her  impudently.  "  But  I'm  afraid 
you're  not." 

"  What  would  happen  to  me  if  I  were  ?  " 

"  Why,"  he  said  with  innocent  enthusiasm,  "  you 
would  have  your  reward,  too,  Mrs.  Dysart." 

"  The  sort  of  reward  which  I  heard  you  bestow  a 
few  moments  ago  upon  that  maid?  I'm  no  longer  the 
latter,  so  I  suppose  I'm  not  entitled  to  it,  am  I  ?  " 

The  smile  still  edged  her  pretty  mouth;  there  was 
an  instant  when  matters  looked  dubious  for  her;  but 
a  door  opened  somewhere,  and,  still  smiling,  she  slipped 
by  him  and  vanished  into  a  neighbouring  corridor. 

Howker,  the  old  butler,  met  him  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

"  Tea  is  served  on  the  Long  Terrace,  sir.  Mr. 
Seagrave  wishes  to  know  whether  you  would  care  to  see 
the  trout  jumping  on  the  Gray  Water  this  evening? 
If  so,  you  are  please  not  to  stop  for  tea,  but  go  directly 
to  the  Sachem's  Gate.  Redmond  will  guide  you,  sir." 


This  is  one  of   those  rare  occasions   .   .   .  where  goodness 
is  amply  .  .  .  rewarded." 


EOYA-NEH 


"  All  right,  Howker,"  said  Duane  absently ;  and 
strolled  on  along  the  hall,  thinking  of  Mrs.  Dysart. 

The  front  doors  swung  wide,  opening  on  the  Long 
Terrace,  which  looked  out  across  a  valley  a  hundred 
feet  below,  where  a  small  lake  glimmered  as  still  as  a 
mirror  against  a  background  of  golden  willows  and  low 
green  mountains. 

There  were  a  number  of  young  people  pretending 
to  take  tea  on  the  terrace ;  and  some  took  it,  and  others 
took  other  things.  He  knew  them  all,  and  went  for 
ward  to  greet  them.  Geraldine  Seagrave,  a  new  and 
bewitching  coat  of  tan  tinting  cheek  and  neck,  held 
out  her  hand  with  all  the  engaging  frankness  of  earlier 
days.  Her  clasp  was  firm,  cool,  and  nervously  cordial 
— the  old  confident  affection  of  childhood  once  more. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  came,  Duane.  I've  really  missed 
you."  And  sweeping  the  little  circle  with  an  eager 
glance ;  "  You  know  everybody,  I  think.  The  Dysarts 
have  not  yet  appeared,  and  Scott  is  down  at  the  Gate 
Lodge.  Come  and  sit  by  me,  Duane." 

Two  or  three  girls  extended  their  hands  to  him — 
Sylvia  Quest,  shy  and  quiet;  Muriel  Wye,  white- 
skinned,  black-haired,  red-lipped,  red-cheeked,  with 
eyes  like  melted  sapphires  and  the  expression  of  a  reck 
less  saint ;  and  his  blond  sister,  Na'ida,  who  had  arrived 
that  afternoon  from  the  Tappans'  at  Iron  Hill,  across 
the  mountain. 

Delancy  Grandcourt,  uncouth  and  highly  coloured, 
stood  up  to  shake  hands ;  Bunbury  Gray,  a  wiry, 
bronzed  little  polo-playing  squadron  man,  hailed  Duane 
with  enthusiasm. 

"  Awfully  glad  to  see  you,  Bunny,"  said  Duane, 
who  liked  him  immensely — "  oh,  how  are  you  ?  "  offer 
ing  his  hand  to  Reginald  Wye,  a  hard-riding,  hard- 

123 


drinking,  straight-shooting  young  man,  who  knew 
nothing  on  earth  except  what  concerned  sport  and 
the  drama.  He  and  his  sister  of  the  sapphire  eyes 
and  brilliant  cheeks  were  popularly  known  as  the 
Pink  'uns. 

Jack  Dysart  arrived  presently,  graceful,  supple, 
always  smilingly,  elaborate  of  manner,  apparently  un 
conscious  that  he  was  not  cordially  admired  by  the  men 
who  returned  his  greeting.  Later,  Rosalie,  came,  en- 
chantingly  demure  in  her  Greuze-like  beauty.  Chardin 
might  have  made  her;  possibly  Fragonard.  She  did 
not  resemble  the  Creator's  technique.  Dresden  tea 
cups  tinkled,  ice  clattered  in  tall  glasses,  the  two  foun 
tains  splashed  away  bravely,  prettily  modulated  voices 
made  agreeable  harmony  on  the  terrace,  blending  with 
the  murmur  of  leaves  overhead  as  the  wind  stirred  them 
to  gossip.  Over  all  spread  a  calm  evening  sky. 

"  Tea,  dear?  "  asked  Geraldine,  glancing  up  at  Mrs. 
Dysart.  Rosalie  shook  her  head  with  a  smile. 

Lang,  the  second  man,  was  flitting  about,  busy  with 
a  decanter  of  Scotch.  A  moment  later  Rosalie  signi 
fied  her  preference  for  it  with  a  slight  nod.  Geraldine, 
who  sat  watching  indifferently  the  filling  of  Mrs. 
Dysart's  glass,  suddenly  leaned  back  and  turned  her 
head  sharply,  as  though  the  aroma  from  glass  and 
decanter  were  distasteful  to  her.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
rose,  walked  over  to  the  parapet,  and  stood  leaning 
against  the  coping,  apparently  absorbed  in  the  land 
scape. 

The  sun  hung  low  over  the  flat  little  tree-clad 
mountains,  which  the  lake,  now  inlaid  with  pink  and 
gold,  reflected.  A  few  fallow  deer  moved  quietly  down 
there,  ruddy  spots  against  the  turf. 

Duane,    carrying    his    glass    with    him,    rose    and 


ROYA-NEH 


stepped  across  the  strip  of  grass  to  her  side,  and, 
glancing  askance  at  her,  was  on  the  point  of  speaking 
when  he  discovered  that  her  eyes  were  shut  and  her 
face  colourless  and  rigid. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked  surprised.  "  Are  you  feel 
ing  faint,  Geraldine?  " 

She  opened  her  eyes,  velvet  dark  and  troubled,  but 
did  not  turn  around. 

"  It's  nothing,"  she  answered  calmly.  "  I  was  think 
ing  of  several  things." 

"You  look  so  white " 

"  I  am  perfectly  well.  Bend  over  the  parapet  with 
me,  Duane.  Look  at  those  rocks  down  there.  What 
a  tumble !  What  a  death !  " 

He  placed  his  glass  between  them  on  the  coping, 
and  leaned  over.  She  did  not  notice  the  glass  for  a 
moment.  Suddenly  she  wheeled,  as  though  he  had 
spoken,  and  her  eyes  fell  on  the  glass. 

"  What  is  the  matter  ?  "  he  demanded,  as  she  turned 
on  her  heel  and  moved  away. 

"  I'm  a  trifle  nervous,  I  believe.  If  you  want  to 
see  the  big  trout  breaking  on  Hurryon,  you'd  better 
come  with  me." 

She  was  walking  swiftly  down  the  drive  to  the 
south  of  the  house.  He  overtook  her  and  fell  into  slower 
step  beside  her. 

The  sun  had  almost  disappeared  behind  the  moun 
tains  ;  bluish  haze  veiled  the  valley ;  a  horizon  of  daz 
zling  yellow  flecked  with  violet  faded  upward  to  palest 
turquoise.  High  overhead  a  feathered  cloud  hung, 
tinged  with  rose. 

The  south  drive  was  bordered  deep  in  syringas,  all 
over  snowy  bloom;  and  as  they  passed  they  inhaled  the 
full  fragrance  of  the  flowers  with  every  breath. 

125 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  It's  like  heaven,"  said  Duane ;  "  and  you  are  not 
incongruous  in  the  landscape,  either." 

She  looked  around  at  him ;  the  smile  that  curved  her 
mouth  had  the  faintest  suspicion  of  tenderness  about  it. 

She  said  slowly: 

"  Do  you  realise  that  I  am  genuinely  glad  to  see 
you?  I've  been  horrid  to  you.  I  don't  yet  really  be 
lieve  in  you,  Duane.  I  detest  some  of  the  things  you 
are  and  say  and  do;  but,  after  all,  I've  missed  you. 
Incredible  as  it  sounds,  I've  been  a  little  lonely  without 
you." 

He  said  gaily :  "  When  a  woman  becomes  accus 
tomed  to  chasing  the  family  cat  out  of  the  parlour 
with  the  broom,  she  misses  the  sport  when  the  cat 
migrates  permanently." 

"Have  you  migrated — permanently?  O  Duane! 
I  thought  you  did  care  for  me — in  your  own  careless 
fashion " 

"  I  do.  But  I'm  not  hopelessly  enamoured  of  your 
broom-stick ! " 

Her  laugh  was  a  little  less  spontaneous,  as  she  an 
swered  : 

"  I  know  I  have  been  rather  free  with  my  broom. 
I'm  sorry." 

"  You  have  made  some  sweeping  charges  on  that 
cat !  "  he  said,  laughing. 

"  I  know  I  have.  That  was  two  months  ago.  I 
don't  think  I  am  the  morally  self-satisfied  prig  I  was 
two  months  ago.  .  .  .  I'd  be  easier  on  anything  now, 
even  a  cat.  But  don't  think  I  mean  more  than  I  do 
mean,  Duane,"  she  added  hastily.  "  I've  missed  you  a 
little.  I  want  you  to  be  nice  to  me.  .  .  .  After  all, 
you're  the  oldest  friend  I  have  except  Kathleen." 

"  I'll  be  as  nice  as  you'll  let  me,"  he  said.  They 
126 


ROYA-NEH 


turned  from  the  driveway  and  entered  a  broad  wood 
road.  "  As  nice  as  you'll  let  me,"  he  repeated. 

"  I  won't  let  you  be  sentimental,  if  that's  what 
you  mean,"  she  observed. 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  are  you." 

"  In  a  derogatory  sense  ?  " 

"  Somewhat.  I  might  be  like  you  if  I  were  a  man, 
and  had  your  easy,  airy,  inconsequential  way  with 
women.  But  I  won't  let  you  have  it  with  me,  my  casual 
friend.  Don't  hope  for  it." 

"  What  have  I  ever  done " 

"  Exactly  what  you're  doing  now  to  Rosalie — what 
you  did  to  a  dozen  women  this  winter — what  you  did 
to  me " — she  turned  and  looked  at  him — "  the  first 
time  I  ever  set  eyes  on  you  since  we  were  children  to 
gether.  I  know  you  are  not  to  be  taken  seriously ; 
almost  everybody  knows  that!  And  all  the  same,  Du- 
ane,  I've  thought  about  you  a  lot  in  these  two  months 
up  here,  and — I'm  happy  that  you've  come  at  last.  .  .  . 
You  won't  mistake  me  and  try  to  be  sentimental  with 
me,  will  you  ?  " 

She  laid  her  slim,  sun-tanned  hand  on  his  arm; 
they  walked  on  together  through  the  woodland  where 
green  bramble  sprays  glimmered  through  clustering 
tree  trunks  and  the  fading  light  turned  foliage  and 
undergrowth  to  that  vivid  emerald  which  heralds  dusk. 

"  Duane,"  she  said,  "  I'm  dreadfully  restless  and 
I  cannot  account  for  it.  ...  Perhaps  motherless  girls 
are  never  quite  normal ;  I  don't  know.  But,  lately,  the 
world  has  seemed  very  big  and  threatening  around  me. 
.  .  .  Scott  is  nice  to  me,  usually;  Kathleen  adorable. 
.  .  .  I — I  don't  know  what  I  want,  what  it  is  I  miss." 

Her  hand  still  rested  lightly  on  his  arm  as  they 
10  127 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


walked  forward.  She  was  speaking  at  intervals  almost 
as  though  talking  in  an  undertone  to  herself: 

"  I'm  in — perplexity.  I've  been  troubled.  Per 
haps  that  is  what  makes  me  tolerant  of  you;  perhaps 
that's  why  I'm  glad  to  see  you.  .  .  .  Trouble  is  a  new 
thing  to  me.  I  thought  I  had  troubles — perhaps  I  had 
as  a  child.  But  this  is  deeper,  different,  disquiet- 
ing." 

"  Are  you  in  love?  "  he  asked. 

"  No." 

"Really?" 

"  Really." 

"  Then  what " 

"  I  can't  tell  you.  Anyway,  it  won't  last.  It  can't, 
.  .  .  Can  it?" 

She  looked  around  at  him,  and  they  both  laughed 
a  little  at  her  inconsequence. 

"  I  feel  better  for  pretending  to  tell  you,  anyway," 
she  said,  as  they  halted  before  high  iron  gates  hung 
between  two  granite  posts  from  which  the  woven  wire 
fence  of  the  game  park,  ten  feet  high,  stretched  away 
into  the  darkening  woods  on  either  hand. 

"  This  is  the  Sachem's  Gate,"  she  said ;  "  here  is 
the  key;  unlock  it,  please." 

Inside  they  crossed  a  stream  dashing  between 
tanks  set  with  fern  and  tall  silver  birches. 

"  Hurryon  Brook,"  she  said.  "  Isn't  it  a  beauty  ? 
It  pours  into  the  Gray  Water  a  little  farther  ahead. 
We  must  hasten,  or  it  will  be  too  dark  to  see  the  trout." 

Twice  again  they  crossed  the  rushing  brook  on  log 
bridges.  Then  through  the  trees  stretching  out  be 
fore  them  they  caught  sight  of  the  Gray  Water,  crink 
ling  like  a  flattened  sheet  of  hammered  silver. 

Everywhere  the  surface  was  starred  and  ringed  and 
128 


ROYA-NEH 


spattered  by  the  jumping  fish;  and  now  they  could  hear 
them  far  out,  splash !  slap  !  clip-clap !  splash ! — hun 
dreds  and  hundreds  jumping  incessantly,  so  that  the 
surface  of  the  water  was  constantly  broken  over  the 
entire  expanse. 

Now  and  then  some  great  trout,  dark  against  the 
glimmer,  leaped  full  length  into  the  air;  everywhere 
fish  broke,  swirled,  or  rolled  over,  showing  "  colour." 

"  There  is  Scott,"  she  whispered,  attuning  her 
voice  to  the  forest  quiet — "  out  there  in  that  canoe. 
No,  he  hasn't  taken  his  rod ;  he  seldom  does ;  he's  per 
fectly  crazy  over  things  of  this  sort.  All  day  and  half 
the  night  he's  out  prowling  about  the  woods,  not  fish 
ing,  not  shooting,  just  mousing  around  and  listening 
and  looking.  And  for  all  his  dreadfully  expensive  col 
lection  of  arms  and  rods,  he  uses  them  very  little.  See 
him  out  there  drifting  about  with  the  fish  breaking 
all  around — some  within  a  foot  of  his  canoe !  He'll 
never  come  in  to  dress  for  dinner  unless  we  call  him." 

And  she  framed  her  mouth  with  both  hands  and 
sent  a  long,  clear  call  floating  out  across  the  Gray 
Water. 

"  All  right ;  I'll  come ! "  shouted  her  brother. 
"  Wait  a  moment !  " 

They  waited  many  moments.  Dusk,  lurking  in  the 
forest,  peered  out,  casting  a  gray  net  over  shore  and 
water.  A  star  quivered,  another,  then  ten,  and  scores 
and  myriads. 

They  had  found  a  seat  on  a  fallen  log;  neither 
seemed  to  have  very  much  to  say.  For  a  while  the 
steady  splashing  of  the  fish  sounded  like  the  uninter 
rupted  music  of  a  distant  woodland  waterfall.  Sud 
denly  it  ceased  as  if  by  magic.  Not  another  trout  rose ; 
the  quiet  was  absolute. 

129 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"Is  not  this  stillness  delicious?"  she  breathed. 

"  It  is  sweeter  when  you  break  it." 

"  Please  don't  say  such  things.  .  .  .  Can't  you  un 
derstand  how  much  I  want  you  to  be  sincere  to  me? 
Lately,  I  don't  know  why,  I've  seemed  to  feel  so  iso 
lated.  When  you  talk  that  way  I  feel  more  so.  I — 
just  want — a  friend." 

There  was  a  silence;  then  he  said  lightly: 

"  I've  felt  that  way  myself.  The  more  friends  I 
make  the  more  solitary  I  seem  to  be.  Some  people  are 
fashioned  for  a  self-imprisonment  from  which  they 
can't  break  out,  and  through  which  no  one  can 
penetrate.  But  I  never  thought  of  you  as  one  of 
those." 

"  I  seem  to  be  at  times — not  exactly  isolated,  but 
unable  to  get  close  to — to  Kathleen,  for  example.  Do 
you  know,  Duane,  it  might  be  very  good  for  me  to  have 
you  to  talk  to." 

"  People  usually  like  to  talk  to  me.  I've  noticed  it. 
But  the  curious  part  of  it  is  that  they  have  nothing 
to  give  me  in  exchange  for  my  attention." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

He  laughed.  "  Oh,  nothing.  I  amuse  people ;  I 
know  it.  You — and  everybody — say  I  am  all  clever 
ness  and  froth — not  to  be  taken  seriously.  But  did  it 
ever  occur  to  you  that  what  you  see  in  me  you  evoke. 
Shallowness  provokes  shallowness,  levity,  lightness,  in 
consequence — all  are  answered  by  their  own  echo.  .  .  . 
And  you  and  the  others  think  it  is  I  who  answer." 

He  laughed,  not  looking  at  her: 

"  And  it  happens  that  you — and  the  others — are 
mistaken.  If  I  appear  to  be  what  you  say  I  am,  it 
is  merely  a  form  of  self-defence.  Do  you  think  I  could 
endure  the  empty  nonsense  of  a  New  York  winter  if  I 

130 


ROYA-NEH 


did  not  present  to  it  a  surface  like  a  sounding-board 
and  let  Folly  converse  with  its  own  echo — while,  be 
hind  it,  underneath  it,  Duane  Mallett  goes  about  his 
own  business." 

Astonished,  not  clearly  understanding,  she  listened 
in  absolute  silence.  Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  heard 
him  speak  in  such  a  manner.  She  could  not  make 
out  whether  bitterness  lay  under  his  light  and  easy 
speech,  whether  a  maliciously  perverse  humour  lurked 
there,  whether  it  was  some  new  mockery. 

He  said  carelessly :  "  I  give  what  I  receive.  And 
I  have  never  received  any  very  serious  attention  from 
anybody.  I'm  only  Duane  Mallett,  identified  with  the 
wealthy  section  of  society  you  inhabit,  the  son  of  a 
wealthy  man,  who  went  abroad  and  dabbled  in  colour 
and  who  paints  pictures  of  pretty  women.  Everybody 
and  the  newspapers  know  me.  What  I  see  of  women 
is  a  polished  coquetry  that  mirrors  my  fixed  smirk; 
what  I  see  of  men  is  less  interesting." 

He  looked  out  through  the  dusk  at  the  darkening 
water : 

"  You  say  you  are  beginning  to  feel  isolated.  Can 
anybody  with  any  rudiment  of  intellect  feel  otherwise 
in  the  social  environment  you  and  I  inhabit — where 
distinction  and  inherited  position  count  for  absolutely 
nothing  unless  propped  up  by  wealth — where  any  ass 
is  tolerated  whose  fortune  and  lineage  pass  inspection — 
where  there  is  no  place  for  intelligence  and  talent,  even 
when  combined  with  breeding  and  lineage,  unless  you 
are  properly  ballasted  with  money  enough  to  forget 
that  you  have  any  ?  " 

He  laughed. 

"  So  you  feel  isolated?  I  do,  too.  And  I'm  going 
to  get  out.  I'm  tired  of  decorating  a  set  where  the 

131 


THE    DANGER   MARK 


shuttle-cock  of  conversation  is  worn  thin,  frayed, 
ragged!  Where  the  battledore  is  fashionable  scandal 
and  the  players  half  dead  with  ennui  and  their  neigh 
bour's  wives " 

"Duane!" 

"  Oh,  Lord,  you're  a  world-wise  graduate  at  twenty- 
two!  Truth  won't  shock  you,  more's  the  pity.  .  .  . 
As  for  the  game — I'm  done  with  it;  I  can't  stand  it. 
The  amusement  I  extract  doesn't  pay.  Good  God! 
and  you  wonder  why  I  kiss  a  few  of  you  for  distrac 
tion's  sake,  press  a  finger-tip  or  two,  brush  a  waist 
with  my  sleeve !  " 

He  laughed  unpleasantly,  and  bent  forward  in 
the  darkness,  clasped  hands  hanging  between  his 
knees. 

"  Duane,"  she  said  in  astonishment,  "  what  do  you 
mean?  Are  you  trying  to  quarrel  with  me,  just  when, 
for  the  first  time,  something  in  this  new  forest  country 
seemed  to  be  drawing  us  together,  making  us  the  com 
rades  we  once  were  ?  " 

"  We're  too  old  to  be  comrades.  That's  book  rub 
bish.  Men  and  women  have  nothing  in  common,  intel 
lectually,  unless  they're  in  love.  For  company,  for 
straight  conversation,  for  business,  for  sport,  a  man 
would  rather  be  with  men.  And  either  you  and  I  are 
like  everybody  else  or  we're  going  to  really  care  for 
each  other.  Not  for  your  pretty  face  and  figure,  or 
for  my  grin,  my  six  feet,  and  thin  shanks ;  I  can  care 
for  face  and  figure  in  any  woman.  What's  the  use  of 
marrying  for  what  you'll  scarcely  notice  in  a  month? 
...  If  you  are  you,  Geraldine,  under  all  your  at 
tractive  surface  there's  something  else  which  you  have 
never  given  me." 

"Wh — what?"  she  asked  faintly. 
132 


ROYA-NEH 


"  Intelligent  interest  in  me." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that  you  think 
I  underestimate  you?" 

"  Not  as  I  am.  I  don't  amount  to  much ;  but  I 
might  if  you  cared." 

"Cared  for  you?" 

"  No,  confound  it !     Cared  for  what  I  could  be." 

"  I — I  don't  think  I  understand.  What  could  you 
be?" 

"  A  man,  for  one  thing.  I'm  a  thing  that  dances. 
A  fashionable  portrait  painter  for  another.  The  com 
bination  is  horrible." 

"  You  are  a  successful  painter." 

"  Am  I  ?  Geraldine,  in  all  the  small  talk  you  and  I 
have  indulged  in  since  my  return  from  abroad,  have 
you  ever  asked  me  one  sincere,  intelligent,  affectionate 
question  about  my  work  ?  " 

"  I — yes — but  I  don't  know  anything  about " 

He  laughed,  and  it  hurt  her. 

"  Don't  you  understand,"  she  said,  "  that  ordinary 
people  are  very  shy  about  talking  art  to  a  profes 
sional " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  talk  art.  Any  little  thing 
with  blue  eyes  and  blond  curls  can  do  it.  I  wanted  you 
to  see  what  I  do,  say  what  you  think,  like  it  or 
damn  it — only  do  something  about  it!  You've  never 
been  to  my  studio  except  to  stand  with  the  per 
fumed  crowd  and  talk  commonplaces  in  front  of  a 
picture." 

"  I  can't  go  alone." 

"  Can't  you  ?  "  he  asked,  looking  closely  at  her  in 
the  dusk,  so  close  that  she  could  see  every  mocking 
feature. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  low,  surprised  voice,  "  I  could 
133 


go  alone — anywhere — with  you.  ...  I  didn't  realise 
it  before,  Duane." 

"  You  never  tried.  You  once  mistook  an  impulse  of 
genuine  passion  for  the  sort  of  thing  I've  done  since. 
You  made  a  terrific  fuss  about  being  kissed  when  I  saw, 
as  soon  as  I  saw  you,  that  I  wanted  to  win  you,  if  you'd 
let  me.  Since  then  you've  chosen  the  key-note  of  our 
relations,  not  I,  and  you  don't  like  my  interpretation 
of  my  part." 

For  a  while  she  sat  silent,  preoccupied  with  this 
totally  new  revelation  of  a  man  about  whom  she  sup 
posed  she  had  long  ago  made  up  her  mind. 

"  I'm  glad  we've  had  this  talk,"  she  said  at  last. 

'*  I  am,  too.  I  haven't  asked  you  to  fall  in  love  with 
me;  I  haven't  asked  for  your  confidence.  I've  asked 
you  to  take  an  intelligent,  affectionate  interest  in  what 
I  might  become,  and  perhaps  you  and  I  won't  be  so 
lonely  if  you  do." 

He  struck  a  match  in  the  darkness  and  lighted  a 
cigarette.  Close  inshore  Scott  Seagrave's  electric  torch 
flashed.  They  heard  the  velvety  scraping  of  the  canoe, 
the  rattle  and  thump  as  he  flung  it,  bottom  upward,  on 
the  sandy  point. 

"  Hello,  you  people !  Where  are  you  ?  " — sweep 
ing  the  wood's  edge  with  his  flash-light — "  oh,  there 
you  are.  Isn't  this  glorious?  Did  you  ever  see  such 
a  sight  as  those  big  fellows  jumping?  " 

"  Meanwhile,"  said  his  sister,  rising,  "  our  guests 
are  doubtless  yelling  with  hunger.  What  time  is  it, 
Duane?  Half-past  eight?  Please  hurry,  Scott;  we've 
got  to  get  back  and  dress  in  five  minutes !  " 

"  I  can  do  it  easily,"  announced  her  brother,  going 
ahead  to  light  the  path.  And  all  the  way  home  he  dis 
cussed  aloud  upon  the  stripping,  hatching,  breeding, 

134 


EOYA-NEH 


care,  and  diseases  of  trout,  never  looking  back,  and 
quite  confident  that  they  were  listening  attentively  to 
his  woodland  lecture. 

"  Duane,"  she  said,  lowering  her  voice,  "  do  you 
think  all  our  misunderstandings  are  ended  ?  " 

"Certainly,"  he  replied  gaily.     "Don't  you?" 

"  But  how  am  I  going  to  make  everybody  think  you 
arc  not  frivolous?  " 

"  I  am  frivolous.  There's  lots  of  froth  to  me — on 
top.  You  know  that  sort  of  foam  you  see  on  grass- 
stems  in  the  fields.  Hidden  away  inside  is  a  very  clever 
and  busy  little  creature.  He  uses  the  froth  to  protect 
himself." 

"  Are  you  going  to  froth?  " 

"  Yes— until " 

"Until  what?" 

"  You " 

"  Go  on." 

"Shall  I  say  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  unless  you  and  I  find  each  other  intel 
lectually  satisfactory." 

"  You  said  only  a  man — in  love  with  a  woman — 
could  find  her  interesting  in  that  way." 

"Yes.     What  of  it?" 

"  Nothing.  .  .  .  Only  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to 
froth,  then,"  she  said,  laughing.  "  I  haven't  any  in 
tention  of  falling  in  love  with  you,  Duane,  and  you'll 
find  me  stupid  if  I  don't.  Do  you  know  that  what  you 
intimate  is  very  horrid?  " 

"Why?" 

"  Yes,  it  is.     Besides,  it's  a  sort  of  threat " 

"A   threat?" 

"  Certainly.  You  threaten  to — you  know  per- 
135 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


fectly  well  what  you  threaten  to  do  unless  I  immedi 
ately  consider  the  possibility  of  our — caring  for  each 
other — sentimentally. 

"  But  what  do  you  care  if  you  don't  care?  " 

"  I — don't.  All  the  same  it's  horrid  and — and  un 
fair.  Suppose  I  was  frothy  and  behaved " 

"Misbehaved?" 

"  Yes.  Just  because  you  wouldn't  agree  to  take  a 
sentimental  interest  in  me  ?  " 

"  I  weuld  agree !    I'll  agree  now !  " 

"  Suppose  you  wouldn't  ?  " 

**  I  can't  imagine " 

"  Oh,  Duane,  be  honest !  And  I'll  tell  you  flatly— 
if  you  do  misbehave.  Just  because  I  don't  particularly 
desire  to  rush  into  your  arms " 

"  But  I  haven't  threatened  to." 

Unconsciously  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm  again, 
slipping  it  a  little  way  under. 

"  You're  just  as  you  were  years  ago — just  the 
dearest  of  playmates.  We're  not  too  old  to  play,  are 
we?" 

"  I  can't  with  you ;  it's  too  dangerous." 

"  What  nonsense !  Yes,  you  can.  You  like  me  for 
my  intelligence  in  spite  of  what  you  say  about  men 
and  women " 

"  I  wouldn't  care  for  your  intelligence  if  I  were 
not  in " 

"  Duane,  stop,  please !  " 

"  In  danger,"  he  continued  blandly,  "  of  proving 
my  proposition." 

"  You    are    insufferable.      I    am    as    intelligent    as 

you." 


"  I  know  it,  but  it  wouldn't  attract  me  unless " 

"  It  ought  to,"  she   said  hastily.      "  And,  Duane, 
136 


ROYA-NEH 


I'm  going  to  make  you  take  me  into  account.  I'm 
going  t-  exercise  a  man's  privilege  with  you  by — by 
saying  frankly — several  things 

"What  things?" 

The  amused  mockery  in  his  voice  gave  her  courage. 

"  For  one  thing,  I'm  going  to  tell  you  that  people 
— gossip — that  there  are — are : 

"  Rumours  ?  "  lie  asked  in  pretended  anxiety. 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  About  you  and — of  course  they  are 
silly  and  contemptible;  but  what's  the  use  of  being  at 
tentive  enough  to  a  woman — careless  enough  to  give 
colour  to  them  ?  " 

After  an  interval  he  said :  "  Perhaps  you'll  tell  me 
who  beside  myself  these  rumours  concern  ?  " 

"  You  know,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  There  might  be  several,"  he  said  coolly.  "  Who 
is  it?" 

For  a  moment  a  tiny  flash  of  anger  made  her  cheeks 
hot.  Then  she  said: 

"  You  know  perfectly  well  it's  Rosalie.  I  think  we 
have  become  good  enough  comrades  for  me  to  use  a 
man's  privilege " 

"  Men  wouldn't  permit  themselves  that  sort  of 
privilege,"  he  said,  laughing. 

"  Aren't  men  frank  with  their  friends  ?  "  she  de 
manded  hotly. 

"  About  as  frank  as  women." 

"  I  thought —  She  hesitated,  tingling  with  the 
old  desire  to  hurt  him,  flick  him  in  the  raw,  make  him 
wince  in  his  exasperating  complacency.  Then,  "  I've 
said  it  anyhow.  I'm  trying  to  show  an  interest  in  you 
— as  you  asked  me  to  do " 

He  turned  in  the  darkness,  caught  her  hand : 

"  You  dear  little  thing,"  he  whispered,  laughing. 
137 


• 

CHAPTER   VI 

ADRIFT 

DURING  the  week  the  guests  at  Roya-Neh  were  left 
very  much  to  their  own  devices.  Nobody  was  asked  to 
do  anything;  there  were  several  good  enough  horses 
at  their  disposal,  two  motor  cars,  a  power-boat,  canoes, 
rods,  and  tennis  courts  and  golf  links.  The  chances  are 
they  wanted  sea-bathing.  Inland  guests  usually  do. 

Scott  Seagrave,  however,  concerned  himself  little 
about  his  guests.  All  day  long  he  moused  about  his 
new  estate,  field-glasses  dangling,  cap  on  the  back  of 
his  head,  pockets  bulging  with  untidy  odds  and  ends 
until  the  increasing  carelessness  of  his  attire  and  man 
ners  moved  Kathleen  Severn  to  protest. 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  you,  Scott," 
she  said.  "  You  were  always  such  a  fastidious  boy — 
even  dandified.  Doesn't  anybody  ever  cut  your  hair? 
Doesn't  somebody  keep  your  clothes  in  order  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  I  tear  'em  again,"  he  replied,  carefully 
examining  a  small  dark-red  newt  which  he  held  in  the 
palm  of  one  hand.  "  I  say,  Kathleen,  look  at  this  little 
creature.  I  was  messing  about  under  the  ledges  along 
Hurryon  Brook,  and  found  this  amphibious  gentleman 
occupying  the  ground-floor  apartment  of  a  flat  stone." 

Kathleen  craned  her  dainty  neck  over  the  shoulder 
of  his  ragged  shooting  coat. 

"He's  red  enough  to  be  poisonous,  isn't  he?  Oh, 
do  be  careful !  " 

138 


ADRIFT 

"  It's  only  a  young  newt.  Take  him  in  your  hand; 
he's  cool  and  clammy  and  rather  agreeable." 

"  Scott,  I  won't  touch  him !  " 

"  Yes,  you  will ! "  He  caught  her  by  the  arm ; 
"  I'm  going  to  teach  you  not  to  be  afraid  of  things  out 
doors.  This  lizard-like  thing  is  perfectly  harmless. 
Hold  out  your  hand !  " 

"  Oh,  Scott,  don't  make  me " 

"  Yes,  I  will.  I  thought  you  and  I  were  going  to 
be  in  thorough  accord  and  sympathy  and  everything 
else." 

"  Yes,  but  you  mustn't  bully  me." 

"  I'm  not.  I  merely  want  you  to  get  over  your  ab 
surd  fear  of  live  things,  so  that  you  and  I  can  really 
enjoy  ourselves.  You  said  you  would,  Kathleen." 

"  Can't  we  be  in  perfect  sympathy  and  roam  about 
and — and  everything,  unless  I  touch  such  things  ?  " 

He  said  reproachfully,  balancing  the  little  creature 
on  his  palm :  "  The  fun  is  in  being  perfectly  confident 
and  fearless.  You  have  no  idea  how  I  like  aU^thesa 
things.  You  said  you  were  going  to  like  'em,  too." 

"  I  do— rather." 

"  Then  take  this  one  and  pet  it." 

She  glanced  at  the  boy  beside  her,  realising  how 
completely  their  former  relations  were  changing. 

Long  ago  she  had  given  all  her  heart  to  the  Sea- 
grave  children — all  the  unspent  passion  in  her  had  be 
come  an  unswerving  devotion  to  them.  And  now,  a 
woman  still  young,  the  devotion  remained,  but  time  was 
modifying  it  in  a  manner  sometimes  disquieting.  She 
tried  not  to  remember  that  now,  in  Scott,  she  had  a 
man  to  deal  with,  and  tried  in  vain ;  and  dealt  with  him 
weakly,  and  he  was  beginning  to  do  with  her  as  he 
pleased. 

139 


"  You  do  like  to  bully  me,  don't  you  ?  "  she  said. 

"  I  only  want  you  to  like  to  do  what  I  like  to  do." 

She  stood  silent  a  moment,  then,  with  a  shudder, 
held  out  her  hand,  fingers  rigid  and  wide  apart. 

"  Oh !  "  she  protested,  as  he  placed  the  small  dark- 
red  amphibian  on  the  palm,  where  it  crinkled  up  and 
lowered  its  head. 

"  That's  the  idea !  "  he  said,  delighted.  "  Here,  I'll 
take  it  now.  Some  day  you'll  be  able  to  handle  snakes 
if  you'll  only  have  patience." 

"  But  I  don't  want  to."  She  stood  holding  out  the 
contaminated  hand  for  a  moment,  then  dropped  on  her 
knees  and  scrubbed  it  vigorously  in  the  brook. 

"  You  see,"  said  Scott,  squatting  cheerfully  beside 
her,  "  you  and  I  don't  yet  begin  to  realise  the  pleasure 
that  there  is  in  these  woods  and  streams — hidden  and 
waiting  for  us  to  discover  it.  I  wouldn't  bother  with 
any  other  woman,  but  you've  always  liked  what  I  like, 
and  its  half  the  fun  in  having  you  see  these  things. 
Look^ere,  Kathleen,  I'm  keeping  a  book  of  field  notes." 
He  extracted  from  his  stuffed  pockets  a  small  leather- 
covered  book,  fished  out  a  stylograph,  and  wrote  the 
date  while  she  watched  over  his  shoulder. 

"  Discovered  what  seems  to  be  a  small  dark-red  newt 
under  a  stone  near  Hurryon  Brook.  Couldn't  make  it 
bite  me,  so  let  Kathleen  hold  it.  Query :  Is  it  a  land  or 
water  lizard,  a  salamander,  or  a  newt ;  and  what  does  it 
feed  on  and  where  does  it  deposit  its  eggs?  " 

Kathleen's  violet  eyes  wandered  to  the  written  page 
opposite. 

"  Did  you  really  see  an  otter,  Scott?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Out  in  the  Gray 
Water,  swimming  like  a  dog.  That  was  yesterday 
afternoon.  It's  a  scarce  creature  here.  I'll  tell  you 

140 


ADRIFT 

what,  Kathleen ;  we'll  take  our  luncheon  and  go  out  and 
spend  the  day  watching  for  it." 

"  No,"  she  said,  drying  her  hands  on  her  handker 
chief,  "  I  can't  spend  every  minute  of  the  day  with  you. 
Ask  some  other  woman." 

"  What  other  woman  ?  "  She  was  gazing  out  at  the 
sunlit  ripples.  A  little  unquiet  thrill  leaped  through  her 
veins,  but  she  went  on  carelessly : 

"  Take  some  pretty  woman  out  with  you.  There 
are  several  here " 

"  Pretty  woman,"  he  repeated.  "  Do  you  think 
that's  the  only  reason  I  want  you  to  come?  " 

"  Only  reason  ?  What  a  silly  thing  to  say,  Scott. 
I  am  not  a  pretty  woman  to  you — in  that  sense " 

"  You  are  the  prettiest  I  ever  saw,"  he  said,  looking 
at  her ;  and  again  the  unquiet  thrill  ran  like  lightning 
through  her  veins.  But  she  only  laughed  carelessly 
and  said: 

"  Oh,  of  course,  Geraldine  and  I  expect  our  big 
brother  to  say  such  things." 

"  It  has  nothing  to  do  with  Geraldine  or  with 
brothers,"  he  said  doggedly.  She  strove  to  laugh, 
caught  his  gaze,  and,  discountenanced,  turned  toward 
the  stream. 

"  We  can  cross  on  the  stepping  stones,"  she  sug 
gested.  And  after  a  moment :  "  Are  you  coming  ?  " 

"  See  here,  Kathleen,"  he  said,  "  you're  not  acting 
squarely  with  me." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  No,  you're  not.    I'm  a  man,  and  you  know  it." 

"  Of  course  you  are,  Scott." 

"  Then  I  wish  you'd  recognise  it.  What's  the  use 
of  mortifying  me  when  I  act — speak — behave  as  any 
man  behaves  who — who — is — fond  of  a — person." 

141 


"  But  I  don't  mean  to — to  mortify  you.  What  have 
I  done?" 

He  dug  his  hands  into  the  pockets  of  his  riding 
breeches,  took  two  or  three  short  turns  along  the  bank, 
came  back  to  where  she  was  standing. 

"  You  probably  don't  remember,"  he  said,  "  one 
night  this  spring  when — when — "  He  stopped  short. 
The  vivid  tint  in  her  cheeks  was  his  answer — a 
swift,  disconcerting  answer  to  an  incomplete  question, 
the  remainder  of  which  he  himself  had  scarcely  yet 
analysed. 

"  Scott,  dear,"  she  said  steadily,  in  spite  of  her 
softly  burning  cheeks,  "  I  will  be  quite  honest  with  you 
if  you  wish.  I  do  know  what  you've  been  trying  to  say. 
I  am  conscious  that  you  are  no  longer  the  boy  I  could 
pet  and  love  and  caress  without  embarrassment  to  either 
of  us.  You  are  a  man,  but  try  to  remember  that  I  am 
several  years  older " 

"  Does  that  matter !  "  he  burst  out. 

"  Yes,  dear,  it  does.  ...  I  care  for  you — and  Ger- 
aldine — more  than  for  anybody  in  the  world.  I  under 
stand  your  loyalty  to  me,  Scott,  and  I — I  love  it.  But 
don't  confuse  it  with  any  serious  sentiment." 

"  I  do  care  seriously." 

"  You  make  me  very  happy.  Care  for  me  very,  very 
seriously ;  I  want  you  to ;  I — I  need  it.  But  don't  mis 
take  the  kind  of  affection  that  we  have  for  each  other 
for  anything  deeper,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  want  to  care  for  me — that  way?  " 

"  Not  that  way,  Scott." 

"Why?" 

"  I've  told  you.     I  am  so  much  older " 

"  Couldn't  you,  all  the  same?  " 

She  was  trembling  inwardly.  She  leaned  against  a 
142 


ADRIFT 

white  birch-tree  and  passed  one  hand  across  her  eyes  and 
upward  through  the  thick  burnished  hair. 

"  No,  I  couldn't,"  she  whispered. 

The  boy  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  brook.  Past  him 
hurried  the  sun-tipped  ripples;  under  them,  in  irregu 
lar  wedge  formation,  little  ones  ahead,  big  ones  in  the 
rear,  lay  a  school  of  trout,  wavering  silhouettes  of 
amber  against  the  bottom  sands. 

One  arm  encircling  the  birch-tree,  she  looked  after 
him  in  silence,  waiting.  And  after  a  while  he  turned 
and  came  back  to  her : 

"  I  suppose  you  knew  I  fell  in  love  with  you  that 
night  when — when — you  remember,  don't  you  ?  " 

She  did  not  answer. 

"  I  don't  know  how  it  happened,"  he  said :  "  some 
thing  about  you  did  it.  I  want  to  say  that  I've  loved 
you  ever  since.  It's  made  me  serious.  ...  I  haven't 
bothered  with  girls  since.  You  are  the  only  woman 
who  interests  me.  I  think  about  you  most  of  the  time 
when  I'm  not  doing  something  else,"  he  explained 
nai'vely.  "  I  know  perfectly  well  I'm  in  love  with  you 
because  I  don't  dare  touch  you — and  I've  never  thought 
of — of  kissing  you  good-night  as  we  used  to  before 
that  night  last  spring.  .  .  .  You  remember  that  we 
didn't  do  it  that  night,  don't  you  ?  " 

Still  no  answer,  and  Kathleen's  delicate,  blue-veined 
hands  were  clenched  at  her  sides  and  her  breath  came 
irregularly. 

"  That  was  the  reason,"  he  said.  "  I  don't  know 
how  I've  found  courage  to  tell  you.  I've  often  been 
afraid  you  would  laugh  at  me  if  I  told  you.  ...  If  it's 
only  our  ages — you  seem  as  young  as  I  do.  .  .  ."  He 
looked  up,  hopefully;  but  she  made  no  response. 

The  boy  drew  a  long  breath. 
143 


"  I  love  you,  anyway,"  he  said.  "  And  that's  how 
it  is." 

She  neither  spoke  nor  stirred. 

"  I  suppose,"  he  went  on,  "  because  I  was  such  a 
beast  of  a  boy,  you  can  never  forget  it." 

"  You  were  the  sweetest,  the  best — "  Her  voice 
broke ;  she  swung  about,  moved  away  a  few  paces,  stood 
still.  When  he  halted  behind  her  she  turned. 

"  Dearest,"  she  said  tremulously,  "  let  me  give  you 
what  I  can — love,  as  always — solicitude,  companionship, 
deep  sympathy  in  your  pleasures,  deep  interest  in  your 
amusements.  .  .  .  Don't  ask  for  more ;  don't  think  that 
you  want  more.  Don't  try  to  change  the  loyalty  and 
love  you  have  always  had  for  something  you — neither 
of  us  understand — neither  of  us  ought  to  desire — or 
even  think  of " 

"Why?" 

"  Can't  you  understand  ?  Even  if  I  were  not  too 
old  in  years,  I  dare  not  give  up  what  I  have  of  you 
and  Geraldine  for  this  new — for  anything  more  hazard 
ous.  .  .  .  Suppose  it  were  so — that  I  could  venture  to 
think  I  cared  for  you  that  way?  What  might  I  put  in 
peril? — Geraldine's  affection  for  me — perhaps  her  re 
lations  with  you.  .  .  .  And  the  world  is  cynical,  Scott, 
and  you  are  wealthy  even  among  very  rich  men,  and 
I  was  your  paid  guardian — quite  penniless — engaged 
to  care  for  and  instruct " 

"  Don't  say  such  things !  "  he  said  angrily. 

"  The  world  would  say  them — your  friends — per 
haps  Geraldine  might  be  led  to  doubt — Oh,  Scott,  dear, 
I  know,  I  know!  And  above  all — I  am  afraid.  There 
are  too  many  years  between  us — too  many  blessed  memo 
ries  of  my  children  to  risk.  .  .  .  Don't  try  to  make  me 
care  for  you  in  any  other  way." 

144 


ADRIFT 

A  quick  flame  leaped  in  his  eyes. 

"Could  I?" 

"  No !  "  she  exclaimed,  appalled. 

"  Then  why  do  you  ask  me  not  to  try  ?  I  believe  I 
could!" 

"  You  cannot !  You  cannot,  believe  me.  Won't  you 
believe  me?  It  must  not  happen;  it  is  all  wrong — in 
every  way " 

He  stood  looking  at  her  with  a  new  expression  on 
his  face. 

"  If  you  are  so  alarmed,"  he  said  slowly,  "  you  must 
have  already  thought  about  it.  You'll  think  about  it 
now,  anyway." 

"  We  are  both  going  to  forget  it.  Promise  that 
you  will !  "  She  added  hurriedly :  "  Drop  my  hand, 
please;  there  is  Geraldine — and  Mr.  Grandcourt,  to6! 
.  .  .  Tell  me — do  my  eyes  look  queer?  Are  they  red 
and  horrid?  .  .  .  Don't  look  at  me  that  way.  For 
goodness'  sake,  don't  display  any  personal  interest  in 
me.  Go  and  turn  over  some  flat  rocks  and  find  some 
lizards !  " 

Geraldine,  bare-armed  and  short-skirted,  came 
swinging  along  the  woodland  path,  Delancy  Grand- 
court  dogging  her  heels,  as  usual,  carrying  a  pair  of 
rods  and  catching  the  artificial  flies  in  the  bushes  at 
every  step. 

"  We're  all  out  of  trout  at  the  house !  "  she  called 
across  to  the  stream  to  her  brother.  "  Jack  Dysart  is 
fishing  down  the  creek  with  Nai'da  and  Sylvia.  Where 
is  Duane  ?  " 

"  Somewhere  around,  I  suppose,"  replied  Scott 
sulkily.  His  sister  took  a  running  jump,  cleared  the 
bank,  and  alighted  on  a  rock  in  the  stream.  Poised 
there  she  looked  back  at  Grandcourt,  laughed,  sprang 

145 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


forward  from  stone  to  stone,  and  leaped  to  the  moss 
beside  Kathleen. 

"  Hello,  dear !  "  she  nodded.  "  Where  did  you  cross  ? 
And  where  is  Duane  ?  " 

"  We  crossed  by  the  log  bridge  below,"  replied  Kath 
leen.  She  added :  "  Duane  left  us  half  an  hour  ago. 
Wasn't  it  half  an  hour  ago,  Scott  ?  "  with  a  rising  in 
flection  that  conveyed  something  of  warning,  some 
thing  of  an  appeal.  But  on  Scott's  face  the  sul 
len  disconcerted  expression  had  not  entirely  faded, 
and  his  sister  inspected  him  curiously.  Then  with 
out  knowing  why,  exactly,  she  turned  and  looked  at 
Kathleen. 

There  was  a  subdued  and  dewy  brilliancy  in  Kath 
leen's  eyes,  a  bright  freshness  to  her  cheeks,  radiantly 
and  absurdly  youthful ;  and  something  else — something 
so  indefinable,  so  subtle,  that  only  another  woman's  in 
stinct  might  divine  it — something  invisible  and  inward, 
which  transfigured  her  with  a  youthful  loveliness  almost 
startling. 

They  looked  at  one  another.  Geraldine,  conscious 
of  something  she  could  not  understand,  glanced  again 
at  her  sulky  brother. 

"What's  amiss,  Scott?"  she  asked.  "Has  any 
thing  gone  wrong  anywhere  ?  " 

Scott,  pretending  to  be  very  busy  untangling  Grand- 
court's  cast  from  the  branches  of  a  lusty  young  birch, 
said,  "  No,  of  course  not,"  and  the  girl,  wondering, 
turned  to  Kathleen,  who  sustained  her  questioning  eyes 
without  a  tremor. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  Scott  ?  "  asked  his  sister. 
"  He's  the  guiltiest-looking  man — why,  it's  absurd, 
Kathleen  !  Upon  my  word,  the  boy  is  blushing !  " 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Scott  so  furiously  that  every- 
146 


ADRIFT 

body  laughed.  And  presently  Geraldine  asked  again 
where  Duane  was. 

"  Rosalie  Dysart  is  canoeing  on  the  Gray  Water, 
and  she  hailed  him  and  he  left  us  and  went  down  to  the 
river,"  said  Kathleen  carelessly. 

"Did  Duane  join  her?" 

"  I  think  so — "  She  hesitated,  watching  Geraldine's 
sombre  eyes.  "  I  really  don't  know,"  she  added.  And, 
in  a  lower  voice :  "  I  wish  either  Duane  or  Rosalie  would 
go.  They  certainly  are  behaving  unwisely." 

Geraldine  turned  and  looked  through  the  woods 
toward  the  Gray  Water. 

"  It's  their  affair,"  she  said  curtly.  "  I've  got  to 
make  Delancy  fish  or  we  won't  have  enough  trout  for 
luncheon.  Scott !  "  calling  to  her  brother,  "  your  hor 
rid  trout  won't  rise  this  morning.  For  goodness' 
sake,  try  to  catch  something  beside  lizards  and  water- 
beetles  !  " 

For  a  moment  she  stood  looking  around  her,  as 
though  perplexed  and  preoccupied.  There  was  sun 
light  on  the  glade  and  on  the  ripples,  but  the  daylight 
seemed  to  have  become  duller  to  her. 

She  walked  up-stream  for  a  little  distance  be 
fore  she  noticed  Grandcourt  plodding  faithfully  at  her 
heels. 

"  Oh !  "  she  said  impatiently,  "  I  thought  you  were 
fishing.  You  must  catch  something,  you  know,  or  we'll 
all  go  hungry." 

"  Nothing  bites  on  these  bally  flies,"  he  explained. 

"  Nothing  bites  because  your  flies  are  usually  caught 
in  a  tree-top.  Trout  are  not  arboreal.  I'm  ashamed  of 
you,  Delancy.  If  you  can't  keep  your  line  free  in  the 
woods  " — she  hesitated,  then  reddening  a  little  under 
her  tan — "  you  had  better  go  and  get  a  canoe  and  find 

147 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


Duane  Mallett  and  help  him  catch — something  worth 
while." 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  stay  with  you  ?  "  asked  the 
big,  awkward  fellow  appealingly.  "  There's  no  fun  in 
being  with  Rosalie  and  Duane." 

"  No,  I  don't.  Look !  Your  flies  are  in  that  bush ! 
Untangle  them  and  go  to  the  Gray  Water." 

"  Won't  you  come,  too,  Miss  Seagrave?  " 

"  No ;  I'm  going  back  to  the  house.  .  .  .  And  don't 
you  dare  return  without  a  decent  brace  of  trout." 

"  All  right,"  he  said  resignedly.  The  midges  both 
ered  him;  he  mopped  his  red  face,  tugged  at  the  line, 
but  the  flies  were  fast  in  a  hazel  bush. 

"  Damn  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  muttered,  looking 
piteously  after  Geraldine.  She  was  already  far  away 
among  the  trees,  skirts  wrapped  close  to  avoid  briers, 
big  straw  hat  dangling  in  one  hand. 

As  she  walked  toward  the  Sachem's  Gate  she  was 
swinging  her  hat  and  singing,  apparently  as  uncon 
cernedly  as  though  care  rested  lightly  upon  her  young 
shoulders. 

Out  on  the  high-road  a  number  of  her  guests  whizzed 
past  in  one  of  Scott's  motors ;  there  came  a  swift 
hail,  a  gust  of  wind-blown  laughter,  and  the  car  was 
gone  in  a  whirl  of  dust.  She  stood  in  the  road 
watching  it  recede,  then  walked  forward  again  toward 
the  house. 

Her  accustomed  elasticity  appeared  to  have  left  her ; 
the  sun  was  becoming  oppressive;  her  white-shod  feet 
dragged  a  little,  which  was  so  unusual  that  she  straight 
ened  her  head  and  shoulders  with  nervous  abruptness. 

"  What  on  earth  is  the  matter  with  me  ?  "  she  said, 
half  aloud,  to  herself. 

During  these  last  two  months,  and  apparently  apro- 
148 


ADRIFT 

pos  of  nothing  at  all,  an  unaccustomed  sense  of  depres 
sion  sometimes  crept  upon  her. 

At  first  she  disregarded  it  as  the  purely  physical 
lassitude  of  spring,  but  now  it  was  beginning  to  dis 
quiet  her.  Once  a  hazy  suspicion  took  shape — has 
tily  dismissed — that  some  sense,  some  temporarily  sup 
pressed  desire  was  troubling  her.  The  same  idea  had 
awakened  again  that  evening  on  the  terrace  when  the 
faint  odour  from  the  decanter  attracted  her.  And  again 
she  suspected,  and  shrank  away  into  herself,  shocked, 
frightened,  surprised,  yet  still  defiantly  incredulous. 

Yet  her  suspicions  had  been  correct.  It  was  habit, 
disturbed  by  the  tardiness  of  accustomed  tribute,  that 
stirred  at  moments,  demanding  recognition. 

Since  that  night  in  early  spring  when  fear  and  hor 
ror  of  herself  had  suddenly  checked  a  custom  which  she 
had  hitherto  supposed  to  be  nothing  worse  than  foolish, 
twice — at  times  inadvertently,  at  times  deliberately — 
she  had  sought  relief  from  sleepless  nervousness  and 
this  new  depression  in  the  old  and  apparently  harmless 
manner  of  her  girlhood.  For  weeks  now  she  had  exer 
cised  little  control  of  herself,  feeling  immune,  yet  it 
scared  her  a  little  to  recognise  again  in  herself  the 
restless  premonitions  of  desire.  For  here,  in  the  sun 
shine  of  the  forest-bordered  highway,  that  same  dull 
uneasiness  was  stirring  once  more. 

It  was  true,  other  things  had  stirred  her  to  uneasi 
ness  that  morning — an  indefinable  impression  concern 
ing  Kathleen — a  definite  one  which  concerned  Rosalie 
Dysart  and  Duane,  and  which  began  to  exasperate  her. 

All  her  elasticity  was  gone  now ;  tired  without  rea 
son,  she  plodded  on  along  the  road  in  her  little  white 
shoes,  head  bent,  brown  eyes  brooding,  striving  to  fix 
her  wandering  thoughts  on  Duane  Mallett  to  fight  down 

149 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


the  threatening  murmurs  of  a  peril  still  scarcely  com 
prehended. 

"  Anyway,"  she  said  half  aloud,  "  even  if  I  ever 
could  care  for  him,  I  dare  not  let  myself  do  it  with  this 
absurd  inclination  always  threatening  me." 

She  had  said  it!  Scarcely  yet  understanding  the 
purport  of  her  own  words,  yet  electrified,  glaringly  en 
lightened  by  them,  she  halted.  A  confused  sense  that 
something  vital  had  occurred  in  her  life  stilled  her  heart 
and  her  breathing  together. 

After  a  moment  she  straightened  up  and  walked  for 
ward,  turned  across  the  lawn  and  into  the  syringa- 
bordered  drive. 

There  was  nobody  in  the  terrace  except  Bunbury 
Gray  in  a  brilliant  waistcoat,  who  sat  smoking  a  very 
large  faience  pipe  and  reading  a  sporting  magazine. 
He  got  up  with  alacrity  when  he  saw  her,  fetched  her 
a  big  wicker  chair,  evidently  inclined  to  let  her  divert 
him. 

"  Oh,  I'm  not  going  to,"  she  observed,  sinking  into 
the  cushions.  For  a  moment  she  felt  rather  limp,  then 
a  quiver  passed  through  her,  tightening  the  relaxed 
nerves. 

"  Bunbury,"  she  said,  "  do  you  know  any  men  who 
ever  get  tired  of  idleness  and  clothes  and  their  neigh 
bours'  wives  ?  " 

"  Sure,"  he  said,  surprised,  "  I  get  tired  of  those 
things  all  right.  I've  got  enough  of  this  tailor,  for 
example,"  looking  at  his  trousers.  "  I'm  tired  of  idle 
ness,  too.  Shall  we  do  something  and  forget  the  cut  of 
my  clothes  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  do  when  you  tire  of  people  and 
things?" 

"  Change  partners  or  go  away.     That's  easy." 
150 


ADRIFT 

"  You  can't  change  yourself — or  go  away  from 
yourself." 

"  But  I  don't  get  tired  of  myself,"  he  explained  in 
astonishment.  She  regarded  him  curiously  from  the 
depths  of  her  wicker  chair. 

"  Bunbury,  do  you  remember  when  we  were  en 
gaged?" 

He  grinned.  "  Rather.  I  wouldn't  mind  being  it 
again." 

"Engaged?" 

"  Sure  thing.  Will  you  take  me  on  again,  Ger- 
aldine?" 

"  I  thought  you  cared  for  Sylvia  Quest." 

"  I  do,  but  I  can  stop  it." 

She  still  regarded  him  with  brown-eyed  curiosity. 

"  Didn't  you  really  tire  of  our  engagement  ?  " 

"  You  did.  You  said  that  my  tailor  is  the  vital  part 
of  me." 

She  laughed.  "  Well,  you  are  only  a  carefully 
groomed  combination  of  New  York  good  form  and  good 
nature,  aren't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  That's  rather  rough,  isn't  it  ?  Or 
do  you  really  mean  it  that  way  ?  " 

"  No,  Bunny  dear.  I  only  mean  that  you're  like 
the  others.  All  the  men  I  know  are  about  the  same  sort. 
You  all  wear  too  many  ties  and  waistcoats ;  you  are,  and 
say,  and  do  too  many  kinds  of  fashionable  things.  You 
play  too  much  tennis,  drink  too  many  pegs,  gamble  too 
much,  ride  and  drive  too  much.  You  all  have  too  much 
and  too  many — if  you  understand  that !  You  ask  too 
much  and  you  give  too  little;  you  say  too  much  which 
means  too  little.  Is  there  none  among  you  who  knows 
something  that  amounts  to  something,  and  how  to  say 
it  and  do  it?" 

11  151 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  What  the  deuce  are  you  driving  at,  Geraldine  ?  " 
he  asked,  bewildered. 

"  I'm  just  tired  and  irritable,  Bunny,  and  I'm  tak 
ing  it  out  on  you.  .  .  .  Because  you  were  always  kind 
— and  even  when  foolish  you  were  often  considerate. 
.  .  .  That's  a  new  waistcoat,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Well — I  don't — kn'ow,"  he  began,  perplexed  and 
suspicious,  but  she  cut  him  short  with  a  light  little 
laugh  and  reached  out  to  pat  his  hand. 

"  Don't  mind  me.  You  know  I  like  you.  .  .  .  I'm 
only  bored  with  your  species.  What  do  you  do  when 
you  don't  know  what  to  do,  Bunny  ?  " 

"  Take  a  peg,"  he  said,  brightening  up.  "  Do  you 
— shall  I  call  somebody " 

"  No,  please." 

She  extended  her  slim  limbs  and  crossed  her  feet. 
Lying  still  there  in  the  sunshine,  arms  crooked  behind 
her  head,  she  gazed  straight  out  ahead.  Light  breezes 
lifted  her  soft  bright  hair ;  the  same  zephyrs  bore  from 
tennis  courts  on  the  east  the  far  laughter  and  calling 
of  the  unseen  players. 

"  Who  are  they  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  The  Pink  'uns,  Nai'da,  and  Jack  Dysart.  There's 
ten  up  on  every  set,"  he  added,  "  and  I've  side  obliga 
tions  with  Rosalie  and  Duane.  Take  you  on  if  you  like ; 
odds  are  on  the  Pink  'uns.  Or  I'll  get  a  lump  of  sugar 
and  we  can  play  '  Fly  Loo.' ' 

"  No,  thanks." 

A  few  moments  later  she  said: 

"  Do  you  know,  somehow,  recently,  the  forest  world 
— all  this  pretty  place  of  lakes  and  trees — "  waving  her 
arm  toward  the  horizon — "  seems  to  be  tarnished  with 
the  hard  living  and  empty  thinking  of  the  people  I 
have  brought  into  it.  ...  I  include  myself.  The 

152 


ADRIFT 

region   is  redolent  of  money  and  the  things   it  buys. 
I  had  a  better  time  before  I  had  any  or  heard  about  it." 

"  Why,  you've  always  had  it — 

"  But  I  didn't  know  it.  I'd  like  to  give  mine  away 
and  do  something  for  a  living." 

"  Oh,  every  girl  has  that  notion  once  in  a  lifetime." 

"  Have  they?  "  she  asked. 

"  Sure.  It's  hysteria.  I  had  it  myself  once.  But 
I  found  I  could  keep  busy  enough  doing  nothing  with 
out  presenting  my  income  to  the  Senegambians  and 
spending  life  in  a  Wall  Street  office.  Of  course  if  I  had 
a  pretty  fancy  for  the  artistic  and  useful — as  Duane 
Mallett  has — I  suppose  I'd  get  busy  and  paint  things 
and  sell  'em  by  the  perspiration  of  my  brow " 

She  said  disdainfully :  "  If  you  were  never  any  busier 
than  Duane,  you  wouldn't  be  very  busy." 

"  I  don't  know.  Duane  seems  to  keep  at  it,  even 
here,  doesn't  he  ?  " 

She  looked  up  in  surprise :  "  Duane  hasn't  done 
any  work  since  he's  been  here,  has  he?  " 

"  Didn't  you  know  ?  What  do  you  suppose  he's 
about  every  morning?  " 

"  He's  about — Rosalie,"  she  said  coolly.  "  I've 
never  seen  any  colour  box  or  easel  in  their  outfit." 

"  Oh,  he  keeps  his  traps  at  Hurryon  Lodge.  He's 
made  a  lot  of  sketches.  I  saw  several  at  the  Lodge. 
And  he's  doing  a  big  canvas  of  Rosalie  down  there, 
too." 

"  At  Hurryon  Lodge?  " 

"  Yes.  Miller  lets  them  have  the  garret  for  a 
studio." 

"  I  didn't  know  that,"  she  said  slowly. 

"  Didn't  you  ?    People  are  rather  catty  about  it." 

"Catty?" 

153 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Sheer  surprise  silenced  her  for  a  while,  then  hurt 
curiosity  drove  her  to  questions ;  but  little  Bunbury 
didn't  know  much  more  about  the  matter,  merely  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders  and  saying :  "  It's  casual  but  it's  all 
right." 

Later  the  tennis  players,  sunburned  and  perspiring, 
came  swinging  up  from  the  courts  on  their  way  to  the 
showers.  Bunbury  began  to  settle  his  obligations; 
Nai'da  and  the  Pink  'uns  went  indoors ;  Jack  Dysart, 
handsome,  dishevelled,  sat  down  beside  Geraldine,  fasten 
ing  his  sleeves. 

"  I  lost  twice  twenty,"  he  observed.  "  Bunny  is  in 
fifty,  I  believe.  Duane  and  Rosalie  lose." 

"  Is  that  all  you  care  about  the  game  ?  "  she  asked 
with  a  note  of  contempt  in  her  voice. 

"  Oh,  it's  good  for  one's  health,"  he  said. 

"  So  is  confession,  but  there's  no  sport  in  it.  Tell 
me,  Mr.  Dysart,  don't  you  play  any  game  for  it's  own 
sake?  " 

"  Two,  mademoiselle,"  he  said  politely. 

"What  two?" 

"  Chess  is  one." 

"What  is  the  other?" 

"  Love,"  he  replied,  smiling  at  her  so  blandly  that 
she  laughed.  Then  she  thought  of  Rosalie,  and  it  was 
on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  say  something  impudent. 
But  "  Do  you  do  that  game  very  well  ?  "  was  all  she  said. 

"  Would  you  care  to  judge  how  well  I  do  it?  " 

"  As  umpire?    Yes,  if  you  like." 

He  said :  "  We  will  umpire  our  own  game,  Miss  Sea- 
grave." 

"  Oh,  we  couldn't  do  that,  could  we  ?  We  couldn't 
play  and  umpire,  too."  Suddenly  the  thought  of  Duane 
and  Rosalie  turned  her  bitter  and  she  said: 

154 


ADRIFT 

"  We'll  have  two  perfectly  disinterested  umpires. 
I  choose  your  wife  for  one.  Whom  do  you  choose?  " 

Over  his  handsome  face  the  slightest  muscular 
change  passed,  but  far  from  wincing  he  nodded  coolly. 

"  One  umpire  is  enough,"  he  said.  "  When  our  game 
is  well  on  you  may  ask  Rosalie  to  judge  how  well  I've 
done  it — if  you  care  to." 

The  bright  smile  she  wore  changed.  Her  face  was 
now  only  a  lovely  dark-eyed  mask,  behind  which  her 
thoughts  had  suddenly  begun  racing — wild  little 
thoughts,  all  tumult  and  confusion,  all  trembling,  too, 
with  some  scarcely  understood  hurt  lashing  them  to 
recklessness. 

"  We'll  have  two  umpires,"  she  insisted,  scarcely 
knowing  what  she  said.  "  I'll  choose  Duane  for  the 
second.  He  and  Rosalie  ought  to  be  able  to  agree  on 
the  result  of  our  game." 

Dysart  turned  his  head  away  leisurely,  then  looked 
around  again  unsmiling. 

"  Two  umpires  ?  Soit !  But  that  means  you  con 
sent  to  play." 

"Play?" 

"  Certainly." 

"With  you?" 

"  With  me." 

"  I'll  consider  it.  ...  Do  you  know  we  have  been 
talking  utter  nonsense?  " 

"  That's  part  of  the  game." 

"  Oh,  then — do  you  assume  that  the — the  game  has 
already  begun  ?  " 

"  It  usually  opens  that  way,  I  believe." 

"  And  where  does  it  end,  Mr.  Dysart  ?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say,"  he  replied  in  a  lower 
voice. 

155 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Oh !    And  what  are  the  rules  ?  " 

"  The  player  who  first  falls  really  in  love  loses. 
There  are  no  stakes.  We  play  as  sportsmen — for  the 
game's  sake.  Is  it  understood?  " 

She  hesitated,  smiling,  a  little  excited,  a  little  inter 
ested  in  the  way  he  put  things. 

At  that  same  moment,  across  the  lawn,  Rosalie  and 
Duane  strolled  into  view.  She  saw  them,  and  with  a 
nervous  movement,  almost  involuntary,  she  turned  her 
back  on  them. 

Neither  she  nor  Dysart  spoke.  She  gazed  very 
steadily  at  the  horizon,  as  though  there  were  sounds 
beyond  the  green  world's  rim.  A  few  seconds  later  a 
shadow  fell  over  the  terrace  at  her  feet — two  shadows 
intermingled.  She  saw  them  on  the  grass  at  her  feet, 
then  quietly  lifted  her  head. 

"  We  caught  no  trout,"  said  Rosalie,  sitting  down 
on  the  arm  of  the  chair  that  Duane  drew  forward.  "  I 
fussed  about  in  that  canoe  until  Duane  came  along,  and 
then  we  went  in  swimming." 

"  Swimming  ?  "  repeated  Geraldine,  dumf ounded. 

Rosalie  balanced  herself  serenely  on  her  chair-arm. 

"  Oh,  we  often  do  that." 

"  Swim — where  ?  " 

"  Why  across  the  Gray  Water,  child !  " 

"  But — there  are  no  bath  houses " 

Rosalie  laughed  outright. 

"Quite  Arcadian,  isn't  it?  Duane  has  the  forest 
on  one  side  of  the  Gray  Water  for  a  dressing-room,  and 
I  the  forest  on  the  other  side.  Then  we  swim  out  and 
shake  hands  in  the  middle.  Our  bathing  dresses  are  dry 
ing  on  Miller's  lawn.  Please  do  tell  me  somebody  is 
scandalised.  I've  done  my  best  to  brighten  up  this 
house  party." 

156 


ADRIFT 

Dysart,  really  discountenanced,  but  not  showing  it, 
lighted  a  cigarette  and  asked  pleasantly  if  the  water 
was  agreeable. 

"  It's  magnificent,"  said  Duane ;  "  it  was  like  div 
ing  into  a  lake  of  iced  Apollinaris.  Geraldine,  why  on 
earth  don't  you  build  some  bath  houses  on  the  Gray 
Waters?" 

Perhaps  she  had  not  heard  his  question.  She  began 
to  talk  very  animatedly  to  Rosalie  about  several  mat 
ters  of  no  consequence.  Dysart  rose,  stretched  his  sun 
burned  arms  with  over-elaborate  ease,  tossed  away  his 
cigarette,  picked  up  his  tennis  bat,  and  said :  "  See  you 
at  luncheon.  Are  you  coming,  Rosalie?" 

"  In  a  moment,  Jack."  She  went  on  talking  incon 
sequences  to  Geraldine ;  her  husband  waited,  exchanging 
a  remark  or  two  with  Duane  in  his  easy,  self-possessed 
fashion. 

"  Dear,"  said  Rosalie  at  last  to  Geraldine,  "  I  must 
run  away  and  dry  my  hair.  How  did  we  come  out  at 
tennis,  Jack?  " 

"  All  to  the  bad,"  he  replied  serenely,  and  nodding 
to  Geraldine  and  Duane  he  entered  the  house,  his  young 
wife  strolling  beside  him  and  twisting  up  her  wet  hair. 

Duane  seated  himself  and  crossed  his  lank  legs, 
ready  for  an  amiable  chat  before  he  retired  to  dress  for 
luncheon ;  but  Geraldine  did  not  even  look  toward  him. 
She  was  lying  deep  in  the  chair,  apparently  relaxed 
and  limp ;  but  every  nerve  in  her  was  at  tension,  every 
delicate  muscle  taut  and  rigid,  and  in  her  heart  was 
anger  unutterable,  and  close,  very  close  to  the  lids  which 
shadowed  with  their  long  fringe  the  brown  eyes'  velvet, 
were  tears. 

"  What  have  you  been  up  to  all  the  morning?  "  he 
asked.  "  Did  you  try  the  fishing?  " 

157 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  Yes." 

"  Anything  doing  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  I  thought  they  wouldn't  rise.  It's  too  clear  and 
hot.  That's  why  I  didn't  keep  on  with  Kathleen  and 
Scott.  Two  are  enough  on  bright  water.  Don't  you 
think  so?" 

She  said  nothing. 

"  Besides,"  he  added,  "  I  knew  you  had  old  Grand- 
court  running  close  at  heel  and  that  made  four  rods 
on  Hurry  on.  So  what  was  the  use  of  my  joining 
in?" 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  You  didn't  mind,  did  you?  "  he  asked  carelessly. 

"  No." 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  he  nodded,  not  feeling  much  re 
lieved. 

The  strange  blind  anger  still  possessed  her.  She 
lay  there  immobile,  expressionless,  enduring  it,  not  try 
ing  even  to  think  why ;  yet  her  anger  was  rising  against 
him,  and  it  surged,  receded  helplessly,  flushed  her  veins 
again  till  they  tingled.  But  her  lids  remained  closed ; 
the  lashes  rested  softly  on  the  curve  of  her  cheeks ;  not 
a  tremor  touched  her  face. 

"  I  am  wondering  whether  you  are  feeling  all  right," 
he  ventured  uneasily,  conscious  of  the  tension  between 
them. 

With  an  effort  she  took  command  of  herself. 

"  The  sun  was  rather  hot.  It's  a  headache ;  I  walked 
back  by  the  road." 

"With  the  faithful  one?" 

"  No,"  she  said  evenly,  "  Mr.  Grandcourt  remained 
to  fish." 

"  He  went  to  worship  and  remained  to  fish,"  said 
158 


ADRIFT 

Duane,  laughing.  The  girl  lifted  her  face  to  look  at 
him — a  white  little  face  so  strange  that  the  humour 
died  out  in  his  eyes. 

"  He's  a  good  deal  of  a  man,"  she  said.  "  It's  one 
of  my  few  pleasant  memories  of  this  year — Mr.  Grand- 
court's  niceness  to  me — and  to  all  women." 

She  set  her  elbow  on  the  chair's  edge  and  rested  her 
cheek  in  her  hollowed  hand.  Her  gaze  had  become  re 
mote  once  more. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  took  him  so  seriously,"  he  said 
in  a  low  voice.  "  I'm  sorry,  Geraldine." 

All  her  composure  had  returned.  She  lifted  her  eyes 
insolently. 

"  Sorry  for  what  ?  " 

"  For  speaking  as  I  did." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind.  I  thought  you  might  be  sorry 
for  yourself." 

"  Myself?  " 

"  And  your  neighbour's  wife,"  she  added. 

"  Well,  what  about  myself  and  my  neighbour's 
wife?" 

"  I'm  not  familiar  with  such  matters."  Her  face 
did  not  change,  but  the  burning  anger  suddenly  welled 
up  in  her  again.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about  such 
affairs,  but  if  you  think  I  ought  to  I  might  try  to 
learn."  She  laughed  and  leaned  back  into  the  depths 
of  her  chair.  "  You  and  I  are  such  intimate  friends 
it's  a  shame  I  shouldn't  understand  and  sympathise 
with  what  most  interests  you." 

He  remained  silent,  gazing  down  at  his  shadow  on 
the  grass,  hands  clasped  loosely  between  his  knees.  She 
strove  to  study  him  calmly;  her  mind  was  chaos;  only 
the  desire  to  hurt  him  persisted,  rendered  sterile  by  the 
confused  tumult  of  her  thoughts. 
12  159 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


Presently,  looking  up : 

"  Do  you  doubt  that  things  are  not  right  between — • 
my  neighbour's  wife — and  me?  "  he  inquired. 

"  The  matter  doesn't  interest  me." 

"Doesn't  it?" 

"  No." 

"  Then  I  have  misunderstood  you.  What  is  the  mat 
ter  that  does  interest  you,  Geraldine?  " 

She  made  no  reply. 

He  said,  carelessly  good-humoured :  "  I  like  women. 
It's  curious  that  they  know  it  instinctively,  because 
when  they're  bored  or  lonely  they  drift  toward  me.  .  .  . 
Lonely  women  are  always  adrift,  Geraldine.  There 
seems  to  be  some  current  that  sets  in  toward  me ;  it 
catches  them  and  they  drift  in,  linger,  and  drift  on. 
I  seem  to  be  the  first  port  they  anchor  in.  ...  Then 
a  day  comes  when  they  are  gone — drifting  on  at  hazard 
through  the  years " 

"  Wiser  for  their  experience  at  Port  Mallett  ?  " 

"  Perhaps.    But  not  sadder,  I  think." 

"  A  woman  adrift  has  no  regrets,"  she  said  with 
contempt. 

"  Wrong.    A  woman  who  is  in  love  has  none." 

"  That  is  what  I  mean.  The  hospitality  of  Port 
Mallett  ought  to  leave  them  with  no  regrets." 

He  laughed.  "  But  they  are  not  loved,"  he  said. 
"  They  know  it.  That's  why  they  drift  on." 

She  turned  on  him  white  and  tremulous. 

"  Haven't  you  even  the  excuse  of  caring  for  her  ?  " 

"Who?" 

"  A  neighbour's  wife — who  comes  drifting  into  your 
hospitable  haven !  " 

"  I  don't  pretend  to  love  her,  if  that  is  what  you 
mean,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

160 


ADRIFT 

"  Then  you  make  her  believe  it — and  that's  das 
tardly!" 

"  Oh,  no.  Women  don't  love  unless  made  love  to. 
You've  only  read  that  in  books." 

She  said  a  little  breathlessly :  "  You  are  right.  I 
know  men  and  women  only  through  books.  It's  time  I 
learned  for  myself." 


CHAPTER    VII 

TOGETHEE 

THE  end  of  June  and  of  the  house  party  at  Roya- 
Neh  was  now  near  at  hand,  and  both  were  to  close  with 
a  moonlight  fete  and  dance  in  the  forest,  invitations 
having  been  sent  to  distant  neighbours  who  had  been 
entertaining  similar  gatherings  at  Iron  Hill  and  Cloudy 
Mountain — the  Grays,  Beekmans,  Ellises,  and  Grand- 
courts. 

Silks  and  satins,  shoe  buckles  and  powdered  hair 
usually  mark  the  high  tide  of  imaginative  originality 
among  this  sort  of  people.  So  it  was  to  be  the  inevi 
table  Louis  XVI  fete — or  as  near  to  it  as  attenuated, 
artistic  intelligence  could  manage,  and  they  altered 
Duane's  very  clever  and  correct  sketches  to  suit  them 
selves,  careless  of  anachronism,  and  sent  the  dainty 
water-colour  drawings  to  town  in  order  that  those  who 
sweat  and  sew  in  the  perfumed  ateliers  of  Fifth  Avenue 
might  use  them  as  models. 

"  The  fun — if  there's  any  in  dressing  up — ought  to 
lie  in  making  your  own  costumes,"  observed  Duane.  But 
nobody  displayed  any  inclination  to  do  so.  And  now, 
on  hurry  orders,  the  sewers  in  the  hot  Fifth  Avenue 
ateliers  sewed  faster.  Silken  and  satin  costumes,  paste 
jewelry  and  property  small-swords  were  arriving  by 
express ;  maids  flew  about  the  house  at  Roya-Neh,  try 
ing  on,  fussing  with  lace  and  ribbon,  bodice  and  flow 
ered  pannier,  altering,  retrimming,  adjusting.  Their 

162 


TOGETHER 


mistresses  met  in  one  another's  bedrooms  for  myste 
rious  confabs  over  head-dress  and  coiffure,  lace  scarf, 
and  petticoat. 

As  for  the  men,  they  surreptitiously  tried  on  their 
embroidered  coats  and  breeches,  admired  themselves  in 
secrecy,  and  let  it  go  at  that,  returning  with  embar 
rassed  relief  to  cards,  tennis,  and  the  various  forms  of 
amiable  idleness  to  which  they  were  accustomed.  Only 
Englishmen  can  masquerade  seriously. 

Later,  however,  the  men  were  compelled  to  pay 
some  semblance  of  attention  to  the  general  prep 
arations,  assemble  their  foot-gear,  head-gear,  stars, 
orders,  sashes,  swords,  and  try  them  on  for  Duane 
Mallett — to  that  young  man's  unconcealed  dissatis 
faction. 

"  You  certainly  resemble  a  scratch  opera  chorus," 
he  observed  after  passing  in  review  the  sheepish  line-up 
in  his  room.  "  Delancy,  you're  the  limit  as  a  Black 
Mousquetier — and,  by  the  way,  there  weren't  any  in 
the  reign  of  Louis  XVI,  so  perhaps  that  evens  up  mat 
ters.  Dysart  is  the  only  man  who  looks  the  real  thing 
— or  would  if  he'd  remove  that  monocle.  As  for  Bunny 
and  the  Pink  'un,  they  ought  to  be  in  vaudeville  singing 
la-la-la." 

"  That's  really  a  compliment  to  our  legs,"  observed 
Reggie  Wye  to  Bunbury  Gray,  flourishing  his  prop 
erty  sword  and  gracefully  performing  a  pas  seul  a  la 
Genee. 

Dysart,  who  had  been  sullen  all  day,  regarded  them 
morosely. 

Scott  Seagrave,  in  his  conventional  abbe's  costume 
of  black  and  white,  excessively  bored,  stood  by  the  win 
dow  trying  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  lake  to  see  whether 
any  decent  fish  were  breaking,  while  Scott  walked 

163 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


around  him  critically,  not  much  edified  by  his  costume 
or  the  way  he  wore  it. 

"  You're  a  sad  and  self-conscious-looking  bunch,"  he 
concluded.  "  Scott,  I  suppose  you'll  insist  on  wearing 
your  mustache  and  eyeglasses." 

"  You  bet,"  said  Scott  simply. 

"  All  right.  And  kindly  beat  it.  I  want  to  try  on 
my  own  plumage  in  peace." 

So  the  costumed  ones  trooped  off  to  their  own  quar 
ters  with  the  half-ashamed  smirk  usually  worn  by  the 
American  male  who  has  persuaded  himself  to  frivolity. 
Dekncy  Grandcourt  tramped  away  down  the  hall  bang 
ing  his  big  sword,  jingling  his  spurs,  and  flapping 
his  loose  boots.  The  Pink  'un  and  Bunbury  Gray 
slunk  off  into  obscurity,  and  Scott  wandered  back 
through  the  long  hall  until  a  black-and-red  tiger  moth 
attracted  his  attention,  and  he  forgot  his  annoying 
appearance  in  frantic  efforts  to  capture  the  brilliant 
moth. 

Dysart,  who  had  been  left  alone  with  Duane  in  the 
latter's  room,  contemplated  himself  sullenly  in  the  mir 
ror  while  Duane,  seated  on  the  window  sill,  waited  for 
him  to  go. 

"  You  think  I  ought  to  eliminate  my  eye-glass  ?  " 
asked  Dysart,  still  inspecting  himself. 

"  Yes,  in  deference  to  the  conventional  prejudice  of 
the  times.  Nobody  wore  'em  at  that  period." 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  stickler  for  convention — of  the 
Louis  XVI  sort  more  than  for  the  XIX  century  va 
riety,"  remarked  Dysart  with  a  sneer. 

Duane  looked  up  from  his  bored  contemplation  of 
the  rug. 

"  You  think  I'm  unconventional  ?  "  he  asked  with  a 
smile. 

164 


TOGETHER 


"  I  believe  I  suggested  something  of  the  sort  to  my 
wife  the  other  day." 

"  Ah,"  said  Duane  blandly,  "  does  she  agree  with 
you,  Dysart  ?  " 

"  No  doubt  she  does,  because  your  tendencies  toward 
the  unconventional  have  been  the  subject  of  unpleasant 
comment  recently." 

"  By  some  of  your,  debutante  conquests  ?  You 
mustn't  believe  all  they  tell  you." 

"  My  own  eyes  and  ears  are  competent  witnesses. 
Do  you  understand  me  now?  " 

"  No.  Neither  do  you.  Don't  rely  on  such  wit 
nesses,  Dysart ;  they  lack  character  to  corroborate 
them.  Ask  your  wife  to  confirm  me — if  you  ever  find 
time  enough  to  ask  her  anything." 

"  That's  a  damned  impudent  thing  to  say,"  returned 
Dysart,  staring  at  him.  A  dull  red  stained  his  face, 
then  faded. 

Duane's  eyebrows  went  up — just  a  shade — yet  so 
insolently  that  the  other  stepped  forward,  the  corners 
of  his  mouth  white  and  twitching. 

"  I  can  speak  more  plainly,"  he  said.  "  If  you  can't 
appreciate  a  pleasant  hint  I  can  easily  accommodate 
you  with  the  alternative." 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment. 

"  Dysart,"  said  Duane,  "  what  chance  do  you  think 
you'd  have  in  landing  the — alternative?  " 

"  That  concerns  me,"  said  Dysart ;  and  the  pinched 
muscles  around  the  mouth  grew  whiter  and  the  man 
looked  suddenly  older.  Duane  had  never  before  noticed 
how  gray  his  temples  were  growing. 

He  said  in  a  voice  under  perfect  control :  "  You're 
right;  the  chances  you  care  to  take  with  me  concern 
yourself.  As  for  your  ill-humour,  I  suppose  I  have 

165 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


earned  it  by  being  attentive  to  your  wife.  What  is  it 
you  wish;  that  my  hitherto  very  harmless  attentions 
should  cease?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Dysart,  and  his  square  jaw  quivered. 

"  Well,  they  won't.  It  takes  the  sort  of  man  you 
are  to  strike  classical  attitudes.  And,  absurd  as  the 
paradox  appears — and  even  taking  into  consideration 
your  notorious  indifference  to  your  wife  and  your  rather 
silly  reputation  as  a  debutante  chaser — I  do  believe, 
Dysart,  that,  deep  inside  of  you  somewhere,  there  is 
enough  latent  decency  to  have  inspired  this  resentment 
toward  me — a  resentment  perfectly  natural  in  any  man 
who  acts  squarely  toward  his  wife — but  rather  far 
fetched  in  your  case." 

Dysart,  pallid,  menacing,  laid  his  hand  on  a  chair. 

The  other  laughed. 

"  As  bad  as  that  ? "  he  asked  contemptuously. 
"  Don't  do  it,  Dysart ;  it  isn't  in  your  line.  You're  only 
a  good-looking,  popular,  dancing  man ;  all  your  devil 
try  is  in  your  legs,  and  I'd  be  obliged  if  they'd  presently 
waft  you  out  of  my  room." 

"  I  suppose,"  said  Dysart  unsteadily,  "  that  you 
would  make  yourself  noisily  ridiculous  if  I  knocked  your 
blackguard  head  off." 

"  It's  only  in  novels  that  people  are  knocked  down 
successfully  and  artistically,"  admitted  the  other.  "  In 
everyday  life  they  resent  it.  Yes — if  you  do  anything 
hysterical  there  will  be  some  sort  of  a  disgraceful  noise, 
I  suppose.  It's  shoot  or  suit  in  these  unromantic  days, 
Dysart,  otherwise  the  newspapers  laugh  at  you." 

Dysart's  well-shaped  fists  relaxed,  the  chair  dropped, 
but  even  when  he  let  it  go  murder  danced  in  his 
eyes. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it's  shoot  or  a  suit  in  these  days ; 
166 


you're  perfectly  right,  Mallett.     And  we'll  let  it  go  at 
that  for  the  present." 

He  stood  a  moment,  straight,  handsome,  his  clearly 
stencilled  eyebrows  knitted,  watching  Duane.  What 
ever  in  the  man's  face  and  figure  was  usually  colourless, 
unaccented,  irresolute,  disappeared  as  he  glared  rigidly 
at  the  other. 

For  there  is  no  resentment  like  the  resentment  of 
the  neglectful,  no  jealousy  like  the  jealousy  of  the 
faithless. 

"  To  resume,  in  plain  English,"  he  said,  "  keep  away 
from  my  wife,  Mallett.  You  comprehend  that,  don't 
you?" 

"  Perfectly.    Now  get  out !  " 

Dysart  hesitated  for  the  fraction  of  a  second  longer, 
as  though  perhaps  expecting  further  reply,  then  turned 
on  his  heel  and  walked  out. 

Later,  while  Duane  was  examining  his  own  costume 
preparatory  to  trying  it  on,  Scott  Seagrave's  spec 
tacled  and  freckled  visage  protruded  into  the  room. 
He  knocked  as  an  after-thought. 

"  Rosalie  sent  me.  She's  dressed  in  all  her  gim- 
cracks  and  wants  your  expert  opinion.  I've  got  to 
go " 

"Where  is  she?" 

"  In  her  room.  I'm  going  out  to  the  hatchery  with 
Kathleen " 

"  Come  and  see  Rosalie  with  me,  first,"  said  Duane, 
passing  his  arm  through  Scott's  and  steering  him  down 
the  sunny  corridor. 

When  they  knocked,  Mrs.  Dysart  admitted  them, 
revealing  herself  in  full  costume,  painted  and  powdered, 
the  blinds  pulled  down,  and  the  electric  lights  burning 
behind  their  rosy  shades. 

167 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


"  It's  my  final  dress  rehearsal,"  she  explained. 
"  Mr.  Mallett,  is  my  hair  sufficiently  a  la  Lamballe  to 
suit  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  is.  You're  a  perfect  little  porcelain  figu- 
rette!  There's  not  an  anachronism  in  you  or  your 
make-up.  How  did  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  I  merely  stuck  like  grim  death  to  your  sketches," 
she  said  demurely. 

Scott  eyed  her  without  particular  interest.  "  Very 
corking,"  he  said  vaguely,  "  but  I've  got  to  go  down 
to  the  hatchery  with  Kathleen,  so  you  won't  mind  if  I 
leave " 

He  closed  the  door  behind  him  before  anybody  could 
speak.  Duane  moved  toward  the  door. 

"  It's  a  charming  costume,"  he  said,  "  and  most 
charmingly  worn ;  your  hair  is  exactly  right — not  too 
much  powder,  you  know " 

"  Where  shall  I  put  my  patch?     Here?  " 

"  Higher." 

"Here?" 

He  came  back  to  the  centre  of  the  room  where  she 
stood. 

"  Here,"  he  said,  indenting  the  firm,  cool  ivory  skin 
with  one  finger,  "  and  here.  Wear  two." 

"  And  my  rings — do  you  think  that  my  fingers  are 
overloaded? "  She  held  out  her  fascinating  smooth 
little  hands.  He  supported  them  on  his  upturned  palms 
and  examined  the  gems  critically. 

They  talked  for  a  few  moments  about  the  rings,  then : 
"  Thank  you  so  much,"  she  said,  with  a  carelessly 
friendly  pressure.  "  How  about  my  shoes  ?  Are  the 
buckles  of  the  period?  " 

One  of  her  hands  encountered  his  at  hazard,  lin 
gered,  dropped,  the  fingers  still  linked  lightly  in  his. 

168 


TOGETHER 

She  bent  over,  knees  straight,  and  lifted  the  hem  of  her 
petticoat,  displaying  her  Louis  XVI  footwear. 

"  Shoes  and  buckles  are  all  right,"  he  said ;  "  fault 
less,  true  to  the  period — very  fascinating.  .  .  .  I've 
got  to  go — one  or  two  things  to  do " 

They  examined  the  shoes  for  some  time  in  silence; 
still  bending  over  she  turned  her  dainty  head  and  looked 
around  and  up  at  him.  There  was  a  moment's  pause, 
then  he  kissed  her. 

"  I  was  afraid  you'd  do  that — some  day,"  she  said, 
straightening  up  and  stepping  back  one  pace,  so  that 
their  linked  hands  now  hung  pendant  between  them. 

"  I  was  sure  of  it,  too,"  he  said.  "  Now  I  think  I'd 
better  go — as  all  things  are  en  regie,  even  the  kiss, 
which  was  classical — pure — Louis  XVI.  .  .  .  Besides, 
Scott  was  idiot  enough  to  shut  the  door.  That's  Louis 
XVI,  too,  but  too  much  realism  is  never  artistic." 

"  We  could  open  the  door  again — if  that's  why 
you're  running  away  from  me." 

"What's  the  use?" 

She  glanced  at  the  door  and  then  calmly  seated 
herself. 

"  Do  you  think  that  we  are  together  too  much?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Hasn't  your  husband  made  similar  observations  ?  " 
he  replied,  laughing. 

"  It  isn't  for  him  to  make  them." 

"Hasn't  he  objected?" 

"  He  has  suddenly  and  unaccountably  become  dis 
agreeable  enough  to  make  me  wish  he  had  some  real 
grounds  for  his  excitement !  "  she  said  coolly,  and  closed 
her  teeth  with  a  little  click.  She  added,  between  them: 
"  I'm  inclined  to  give  him  something  real  to  howl 
about." 

169 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


He  said :  "  You're  adrift.    Do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  know  it.  Are  you  prepared  to  offer 
salvage?  I'm  past  the  need  of  a  pilot." 

He  smiled.  "  You  haven't  drifted  very  far  yet — 
only  as  far  as  Mallett  Harbour.  That's  usually  the 
first  port — for  derelicts.  Anchors  are  dropped  rather 
frequently  there — but,  Rosalie,  there's  no  safe  mooring 
except  in  the  home  port." 

Her  pretty,  flushed  face  grew  very  serious  as  she 
looked  up  questioning^. 

"  Isn't  there  an  anchorage  near  you,  Duane  ?  Are 
you  quite  sure  ?  " 

"  Why,  no,  dear,  I'm  not  sure.  But  let  me  tell  you 
something :  it  isn't  in  me  to  love  again.  And  that  isn't 
square  to  you." 

After  a  silence  she  repeated :  "  Again  ?  Have  you 
been  in  love?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Are  you  embittered  ?  I  thought  only  callow  fledg 
lings  moped." 

"  If  I  were  embittered  I'd  offer  free  anchorage  to 
all  comers.  That's  the  fledgling  idea — when  blighted 
— be  a  '  deevil  among  the  weemin,'  "  he  said,  laughing. 

"  You  have  that  hospitable  reputation  now,"  she 
persisted,  unsmiling. 

"  Have  I  ?  Judge  for  yourself  then — because  no 
woman  I  ever  knew  cares  anything  for  me  now." 

"  You  mean  that  if  any  of  them  had  anything  inti 
mate  to  remember  they'd  never  remain  indifferent?  " 

"  Well— yes." 

"  They'd  either  hate  you  or  remember  you  with  a 
certain  tenderness." 

"  Is  that  what  happens?  "  he  asked,  amused. 

"  I  think  so,"  she  said  thoughtfully.  ..."  As  for 
170 


TOGETHER 


what  you  said,  you  are  right,  Duane ;  I  am  adrift.  .  .  . 
You — or  a  man  like  you  could  easily  board  me — take 
me  in  tow.  I'm  quite  sure  that  something  about  me  sig 
nals  a  pilot ;  and  that  keen  eyes  and  bitter  tongues  have 
noted  it.  And  I  don't  care.  Nor  do  I  know  yet  what 
my  capabilities  for  evil  are.  .  .  .  Do  you  care  to — find 
out?" 

"  It  wouldn't  be  a  square  deal  to  you,  Rosalie." 

"  And — if  I  don't  care  whether  it's  a  square  deal  or 
not?" 

"  Why,  dear,"  he  said,  covering  her  nervous,  pretty 
hand  with  both  of  his,  "  I'd  break  your  heart  in  a 
week." 

He  laughed,  dropped  her  fingers,  stepped  back  to 
the  door,  and,  laying  his  hand  on  the  knob,  said  evenly : 

"  That  husband  of  yours  is  not  the  sort  of  man  I 
particularly  take  to,  but  I  believe  he's  about  the  average 
if  you'd  care  to  make  him  so." 

She  coloured  with  surprise.  Then  something  in  her 
scornful  eyes  inspired  him  with  sudden  intuition. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  said  lightly,  "  you  care 
for  him  still." 

"  I  can  very  easily  prove  the  contrary,"  she  said, 
walking  slowly  up  to  him,  close,  closer,  until  the  slight 
tremor  of  contact  halted  her  and  her  soft,  irregular 
breath  touched  his  face. 

"  What  a  girl  like  you  needs,"  he  laughed,  taking 
her  into  his  arms,  "  is  a  man  to  hold  her  this  way — 
every  now  and  then,  and  " — he  kissed  her — "  tell  her 
she  is  incomparable — which  I  cannot  truthfully  tell 
you,  dear."  He  released  her  at  arms'  length. 

"  I  don't  know  whose  fault  it  is,"  he  went  on :  "I 
don't  know  whether  he  still  really  cares  for  you  in  spite 
of  his  weak  peregrinations  to  other  shrines ;  but  you  still 

171 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


care  for  him.  And  it's  up  to  you  to  make  him  what  he 
can  be — the  average  husband.  There  are  only  two 
kinds,  Rosalie,  the  average  and  the  bad." 

She  looked  straight  into  his  eyes,  but  the  deep, 
mantling  colour  belied  her  audacity. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  that  we  haven't — lived 
together  for  two  years  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  know  such  things,"  he  said  gently. 

"  Well,  you  do  know  now.  I — am — very  much 
alone.  You  see  I  have  already  become  capable  of  say 
ing  anything — and  of  doing  it,  too." 

There  came  a  reckless  glimmer  into  her  eyes;  she 
set  her  teeth — a  trick  of  hers;  the  fresh  lips  parted 
slightly  under  her  rapid  breathing. 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  said  unevenly,  "  that  I'm  going 
on  all  my  life  like  this — without  anything  more  than  the 
passing  friendship  of  men  to  balance  the  example  he 
sets  me?  " 

"  No,  I  think  something  is  bound  to  happen,  Rosa 
lie.  May  I  suggest  what  ought  to  happen  ?  " 

She  nodded  thoughtfully;  only  the  quiver  of  her 
lower  lip  betrayed  the  tension  of  self-control. 

"  Take  him  back,"  he  said. 

"  I  no  longer  care  for  him." 

"  You  are  mistaken." 

After  a  moment  she  said :  "  I  don't  think  so ;  truly 
I  don't.  All  consideration  for  him  has  died  in  me. 
His  conduct  doesn't  matter — doesn't  hurt  me  any 
more " 

"  Yes,  it  does.  He's  just  a  plain  ass — an  average 
ass — ownerless,  and,  like  all  asses,  convinced  that  he  can 
take  care  of  himself.  Go  and  put  the  halter  on  him 
again." 

"  Go — and — what  do  you  mean  ?  " 
172 


TOGETHER 


"  Tether  him.  You  did  once.  It's  up  to  you ;  it's 
usually  up  to  a  woman  when  a  man  wanders  untethered. 
What  one  woman,  or  a  dozen,  can  do  with  a  man  his 
wife  can  do  in  the  same  fashion !  What  won  him  in  the 
beginning  always  holds  good  until  he  thinks  he  has  won 
you.  Then  the  average  man  flourishes  his  heels.  He  is 
doing  it.  What  won  him  was  not  you  alone,  or  love, 
alone;  it  was  his  uncertainty  of  both  that  fascinated 
him.  That's  what  charms  him  in  others ;  uncertainty. 
Many  men  are  that  way.  It's  a  sporting  streak  in  us. 
If  you  care  for  him  now — if  you  could  ever  care  for 
him,  take  him  as  you  took  him  first.  .  .  .  Do  you  want 
him  again  ?  " 

She  stood  leaning  against  the  door,  looking  down. 
Much  of  her  colour  had  died  out. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said. 

"  I  do." 

"Well— do  I?" 

"  Yes." 

"You  think  so?    Why?" 

"  Because  he's  adrift,  too.  And  he's  rather  weak, 
rather  handsome,  easily  influenced — unjust,  selfish,  vain, 
wayward — just  the  average  husband.  And  every  wife 
ought  to  be  able  to  manage  these  lords  of  creation,  and 
keep  them  out  of  harm.  .  .  .  And  keep  them  in  love, 
Rosalie.  And  the  way  to  do  it  is  the  way  you  did  it 
first.  .  .  .  Try  it."  He  kissed  her  gaily,  thinking  he 
owed  that  much  to  himself. 

And  through  the  door  which  had  swung  gently  ajar, 
Geraldine  Seagrave  saw  them,  and  Rosalie  saw  her. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  halted,  pale  and  rigid,  and 
her  heart  seemed  to  cease  its  beating;  then,  as  she 
passed  with  averted  head,  Rosalie  caught  Duane's  wrists 
in  her  jewelled  grasp  and  released  herself  with  a  wrench. 

173 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You've  given  me  enough  to  think  over,"  she  said. 
"  If  you  want  me  to  love  you,  stay — and  close  that 
door — and  we'll  see  what  happens.  If  you  don't — you 
had  better  go  at  once,  Duane.  And  leave  my  door  open 
— to  see  what  else  fate  will  send  me."  She  clasped  her 
hands  behind  her  back,  laughing  nervously. 

"  It's  like  the  old  child's  game — *  open  your  mouth 
and  close  your  eyes  and  see  what  God  will  send  you  ?  ' — 
usually  something  not  at  all  resembling  the  awaited  bon 
bon.  .  .  .  Good-bye,  my  altruistic  friend — and  thank 
you  for  your  XXth  Century  advice,  and  your  Louis 
XVI  assistance." 

"  Good-bye,"  he  returned  smilingly,  and  sauntered 
back  toward  his  room  where  his  own  untried  finery 
awaited  him. 

Ahead,  far  down  the  corridor,  he  caught  sight  of 
Geraldine,  and  called  to  her,  but  perhaps  she  did  not 
hear  him  for  he  had  to  put  on  considerable  speed  to 
overtake  her. 

"  In  these  last  few  days,"  he  said  laughingly,  "  I 
seldom  catch  a  glimpse  of  you  except  when  you  are  van 
ishing  into  doorways  or  down  corridors." 

She  said  nothing,  did  not  even  turn  her  head  or  halt ; 
and,  keeping  pace  with  her,  he  chatted  on  amiably 
about  nothing  in  particular  until  she  stopped  abruptly 
and  looked  at  him. 

"  I  am  in  a  hurry.     What  is  it  you  want,  Duane?  " 

"  Why — nothing,"  he  said  in  surprise. 

"  That  is  less  than  you  ask  of — others."  And  she 
turned  to  continue  her  way. 

"  Is  there  anything  wrong,  Geraldine  ?  "  he  asked, 
detaining  her. 

"  Is  there?  "  she  replied,  shaking  off  his  hand  from 
her  arm. 

174 


TOGETHER 

"  Not  as  far  as  I'm  concerned." 

"  Can't  you  even  tell  the  truth?  "  she  asked  with  a 
desperate  attempt  to  laugh. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  he  said.  "  Evidently  something 
has  gone  all  wrong " 

"  Several  things,  my  solicitous  friend ;  I  for  one, 
you  for  another.  Count  the  rest  for  yourself." 

"What  has  happened  to  you,  Geraldine?  " 

"  What  has  always  threatened." 

"Will  you  tell  me?" 

"  No,  I  will  not.  So  don't  try  to  look  concerned 
and  interested  in  a  matter  that  regards  me  alone." 

"  But  what  is  it  that  has  always  threatened  you  ?  " 
he  insisted  gently,  coming  nearer — too  near  to  suit  her, 
for  she  backed  away  toward  the  high  latticed  window 
through  which  the  sun  poured  over  the  geraniums  on  the 
sill.  There  was  a  seat  under  it.  Suddenly  her  knees 
threatened  to  give  way  under  her;  she  swayed  slightly 
as  she  seated  herself;  a  wave  of  angry  pain  swept 
through  her  setting  lids  and  lips  trembling. 

"  Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  it  is  that  you  be 
lieve  has  always  threatened  you." 

"  Do  you  think  I'd  tell  you  ?  "  she  managed  to  say. 
Then  her  self-possession  returned  in  a  flash  of  exas 
peration,  but  she  controlled  that,  too,  and  laughed  de 
fiantly,  confronting  him  with  pretty,  insolent  face  up- 
tilted. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  about  me  ?  That  I'm 
in  the  way  of  being  ultimately  damned  like  all  the  rest 
of  you?  "  she  said.  "  Well,  I  am.  I'm  taking  chances. 
Some  people  take  their  chances  in  one  way — like  you 
and  Rosalie ;  some  take  them  in  another — as  I  do.  .  .  . 
Once  I  was  afraid  to  take  any ;  now  I'm  not.  Who  was 
it  said  that  self-control  is  only  immorality  afraid?  " 

175 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Will  you  tell  me  what  is  worrying  you  ?  "  he  per 
sisted. 

"  No,  but  I'll  tell  you  what  annoys  me  if  you 
like." 

"What?" 

"  Fear  of  notoriety." 

"Notoriety?" 

"  Certainly — not  for  myself — for  my  house." 

"  Is  anybody  likely  to  make  it  notorious  ?  "  he  de 
manded,  colouring  up. 

"  Ask  yourself.  ...  I  haven't  the  slightest  interest 
in  your  personal  conduct  " — there  was  a  catch  in  her 
voice — "  except  when  it  threatens  to  besmirch  my  own 
home." 

The  painful  colour  gathered  and  settled  under  his 
cheek-bones. 

"  Do  you  wish  me  to  leave  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  do.  But  you  can't  without  others  knowing 
how  and  why." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  can " 

"  You  are  mistaken.  I  tell  you  others  will  know. 
Some  do  know  already.  And  I  don't  propose  to  figure 
with  a  flaming  sword.  Kindly  remain  in  your  Eden 
until  it's  time  to  leave — with  Eve." 

"  Just  as  you  wish,"  he  said,  smiling ;  and  that  in 
furiated  her. 

"  It  ought  to  be  as  I  wish !  That  much  is  due  me,  I 
think.  Have  you  anything  further  to  ask,  or  is  your 
curiosity  satisfied?  " 

"  Not  yet.  You  say  that  you  think  something 
threatens  you  ?  What  is  it  ?  " 

"  Not  what  threatens  «/ow,"  she  said  in  contempt. 

"  That  is  no  answer." 

"  It  is  enough  for  you  to  know." 
176 


He  looked  her  hard  in  the  eyes.  "  Perhaps,"  he 
said  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  know  more  about  you  than  you 
imagine  I  do,  Geraldine — since  last  April" 

She  felt  the  blood  leave  her  face,  the  tension  crisp 
ing  her  muscles;  she  sat  up  very  straight  and  slender 
among  the  cushions  and  defied  him. 

"  What  do  you — think  you  know  ?  "  she  tried  to 
sneer,  but  her  voice  shook  and  failed. 

He  said :  "  I'll  tell  you.  For  one  thing,  you're  play 
ing  fast  and  loose  with  Dysart.  He's  a  safe  enough 
proposition — but  what  is  that  sort  of  thing  going  to 
arouse  in  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Her  voice  cleared  with 
an  immense  relief.  He  noted  it. 

"  It's  making  you  tolerant,"  he  said  quietly,  "  fa 
miliar  with  subtleties,  contemptuous  of  standards.  It's 
rubbing  the  bloom  off  you.  You  let  a  man  who  is  mar 
ried  come  too  close  to  you — you  betray  enough  curios 
ity  concerning  him  to  do  it.  A  drifting  woman  does 
that  sort  of  thing,  but  why  do  you  cut  your  cables? 
Good  Lord,  Geraldine,  it's  a  fool  business — permitting 
a  man  an  intimacy — 

"  More  harmless  than  his  wife  permits  you ! "  she 
retorted. 

"  That  is  not  true." 

"  You  are  supposed  to  lie  about  such  things,  aren't 
you?  "  she  said,  reddening  to  the  temples.  "  Oh,  I  am 
learning  your  rotten  code,  you  see — the  code  of  all 
these  amiable  people  about  me.  You've  done  your  part 
to  instruct  me  that  promiscuous  caresses  are  men's  dis 
traction  from  ennui;  Rosalie  evidently  is  in  sympathy 
with  that  form  of  amusement — many  men  and  women 
among  whom  I  live  in  town  seem  to  be  quite  as  casual  as 
you  are.  ...  I  did  have  standards  once,  scarcely  know- 

177 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ing  what  they  meant ;  I  clung  to  them  out  of  instinct. 
And  when  I  went  out  into  the  world  I  found  nobody 
paying  any  attention  to  them." 

"  You  are  wrong." 

"  No,  I'm  not.  I  go  among  people  and  see  every 
standard  I  set  up,  ignored.  I  go  to  the  theatre  and 
see  plays  that  embody  everything  I  supposed  was  un 
thinkable,  let  alone  unutterable.  But  the  actors  utter 
everything,  and  the  audience  thinks  everything — and 
sometimes  laughs.  I  can't  do  that — yet.  But  I'm  pro 
gressing." 

"  Geraldine " 

"  Wait !  .  .  .  My  friends  have  taught  me  a  great 
deal  during  this  last  year — by  word,  precept,  and  ex 
ample.  Things  I  held  in  horror  nobody  notices  enough 
to  condone.  Take  treachery,  for  example.  The  mari 
tal  variety  is  all  around  me.  Who  cares,  or  is  even  curi 
ous  after  an  hour's  gossip  has  made  it  stale  news?  A 
divorce  here,  a  divorce  there — some  slight  curiosity  to 
see  who  the  victims  may  marry  next  time — that  curios 
ity  satisfied — and  so  is  everybody.  And  they  go  back 
to  their  business  of  money-getting  and  money-spending 
— and  that's  what  my  friends  have  taught  me.  Can 
you  wonder  that  my  familiarity  with  it  all  breeds  con 
tempt  enough  to  seek  almost  any  amusement  in  sheer 
desperation — as  you  do  ?  " 

"  I  have  only  one  amusement,"  he  said. 

"What?" 

"  Painting." 

"  And  your  model,"  she  nodded  with  a  short  laugh. 
"  Don't  forget  her.  Your  pretences  are  becoming  tire 
some,  Duane.  Your  pretty  model,  Mrs.  Dysart,  poses 
less  than  you  do." 

Another  wave  of  heart-sickness  and  anger  swept 
178 


TOGETHER 


over  her;  she  felt  the  tears  burning  close  to  her  lids 
and  turned  sharply  on  him : 

"  It's  all  rotten,  I  tell  you — the  whole  personnel  and 
routine — these  people,  and  their  petty  vices  and  their 
idleness  and  their  money!  I — I  do  want  to  keep  my 
self  above  it — clean  of  it — but  what  am  I  to  do?  One 
can't  live  without  friends.  If  I  don't  gamble  I'm  left 
alone ;  if  I  don't  flirt  I'm  isolated.  If  one  stands  aloof 
from  everything  one's  friends  go  elsewhere.  What  can 
I  do?" 

"  Make  decent  friends.     I'm  going  to." 

He  bent  forward  and  struck  his  knee  with  his  closed 
fist. 

"  I'm  going  to,"  he  repeated.  "  I've  waited  as  long 
as  I  can  for  you  to  stand  by  me.  I  could  have  even  re 
mained  among  these  harmless  simians  if  you  had  cared 
for  me.  You're  all  the  friend  I  need.  But  you've  be 
come  one  of  them.  It  isn't  in  you  to  take  an  intelligent 
interest  in  me,  or  in  what  I  care  for.  I've  stood  this 
sort  of  existence  long  enough.  Now  I'm  all  through 
with  it." 

She  stared.  Anger,  astonishment,  exasperation 
moved  her  in  turn.  Bitterness  unlocked  her  lips. 

"  Are  you  expecting  to  take  Mrs.  Dysart  with  you 
to  your  intellectual  solitude  ?  " 

"  I  would  if  I — if  we  cared  for  each  other,"  he  said, 
calmly  seating  himself. 

She  said,  revolted :  "  Can't  you  even  admit  that  you 
are  in  love  with  her?  Must  I  confess  that  I  could  not 
avoid  seeing  you  with  her  in  her  own  room — half  an 
hour  since?  Will  that  wring  the  truth  out  of  you?" 

"  Oh,  is  that  what  you  mean  ?  "  he  said  wearily.  "  I 
believe  the  door  was  open.  .  .  .  Well,  Geraldine,  what 
ever  you  saw  won't  harm  anybody.  So  come  to  your 

179 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


own  conclusions.  .  .  .  But  I  wish  you  were  out  of  all 
this — with  your  fine  insight  and  your  clear  intelligence, 
and  your  sweetness — oh,  the  chances  for  happiness  you 
and  I  might  have  had !  " 

"  A  slim  chance  with  you  !  "  she  said. 

"  Every  chance ;  perhaps  the  only  chance  we'll  ever 
have.  And  we've  missed  it." 

"  We've  missed  nothing  " — a  sudden  and  curious 
tremor  set  her  heart  and  pulses  beating  heavily — "  I  tell 
you,  Duane,  it  doesn't  matter  whom  people  of  our  sort 
marry  because  we'll  always  sicken  of  our  bargain. 
What  chance  for  happiness  would  I  run  with  such  a 
man  as  you  ?  Or  you  with  a  girl  like  me  ?  " 

She  lay  back  among  the  cushions,  with  a  tired  little 
laugh.  "  We  are  like  the  others  of  our  rotten  sort,  only 
less  aged,  less  experienced.  But  we  have,  each  of  us,  our 
own  heritage,  our  own  secret  depravity."  She  hesi 
tated,  reddening,  caught  his  eye,  stammered  her  sen 
tence  to  a  finish  and  flinched,  crimsoning  to  the  roots 
of  her  hair. 

He  stood  up,  paced  the  room  for  a  few  moments, 
came  and  stood  beside  her. 

"  Once,"  he  said  very  low,  "  you  admitted  that  you 
dare  go  anywhere  with  me.  Do  you  remember?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Those  are  your  rooms,  I  believe,"  pointing  to  a 
closed  door  far  down  the  south  corridor. 

"  Yes." 

"  Take  me  there  now." 

"  I — cannot  do  that " 

"  Yes,  you  can.     You  must." 

"  Now?— Duane." 

"  Yes,  now — now!  I  tell  you  our  time  is  now  if  it 
ever  is  to  be  at  all.  Don't  waste  words." 

180 


TOGETHER 

"  What  do  you  want  to  say  to  me  that  cannot  be 
said  here?  "  she  asked  in  consternation. 

He  made  no  answer,  but  she  found  herself  on  her  feet 
and  moving  slowly  along  beside  him,  his  hand  just 
touching  her  arm  as  guide. 

"What  is  it,  Duane?  "  she  asked  fearfully,  as  she 
laid  her  hand  on  the  knob  and  turned  to  look  at  his 
altered  face. 

He  made  no  answer.  She  hesitated,  shivered,  opened 
the  door,  hesitated  again,  slowly  crossed  the  threshold, 
turned  and  admitted  him. 

The  western  sun  flooded  the  silent  chamber  of  rose 
and  gray ;  a  breeze  moved  the  curtains,  noiselessly ;  the 
scent  of  flowers  freshened  the  silence. 

There  was  a  divan  piled  with  silken  cushions ;  he 
placed  several  for  her ;  she  stood  irresolute  for  a  mo 
ment,  then,  with  a  swift,  unquiet  side  glance  at  him, 
seated  herself. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  she  asked,  looking  up,  her  face  be 
ginning  to  reflect  the  grave  concern  in  his. 

"  I  want  you  to  marry  me,  Geraldine." 

"  Is — is  that  what " 

"  Partly.  I  want  you  to  love  me,  too.  But  I'll  at 
tend  to  that  if  you'll  marry  me — I'll  guarantee  that.  I 
— I  will  guarantee — more  than  that." 

She  was  still  looking  up,  searching  his  sombre  face. 
She  saw  the  muscles  tighten  along  the  jaw;  saw  the 
grave  lines  deepening.  A  sort  of  bewildered  fear 
possessed  her. 

"  I — am  not  in  love  with  you,  Duane."  She  added 
hastily,  "  I  don't  trust  you  either.  How  could  I " 

"  Yes,  you  do  trust  me." 

"  After  what  you  have  done  to  Rosalie " 

"  You  know  that  all  is  square  there.     Say  so !  " 
181 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  gazed  at  the  floor,  convinced,  but  not  answering. 

"  Do  you  believe  I  love  you  ?  " 

She  shook  her  head,  eyes  still  on  the  floor. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth !    Look  at  me !  " 

She  said  with  an  effort :  "  You  think  you  care  for 
me.  .  .  .  You  believe  you  do,  I  suppose " 

"  And  you  believe  it,  too !  Give  me  my  chance — 
take  your  own !  " 

"  My  chance?  " — with  a  flash  of  anger. 

"  Yes ;  take  it,  and  give  me  mine.  I  tell  you,  Geral- 
dine,  we  are  going  to  need  each  other  desperately  some 
day.  I  need  you  now — to-morrow  you'll  need  me  more ; 
and  the  day  after,  and  after  that  in  perilous  days  to 
follow  our  need  will  be  the  greater  for  these  hours 
wasted — can't  you  understand  by  this  time  that  we've 
nothing  to  hold  us  steady  through  the  sort  of  life  we're 
born  to  except — each  other " 

His  voice  suddenly  broke;  he  dropped  down  on  the 
couch  beside  her,  imprisoning  her  clasped  hands  on  her 
knees.  His  emotion,  the  break  in  his  voice,  excited  them 
both. 

"  Are  you  trying  to  frighten  me  and  take  me  by 
storm? "  she  demanded,  forcing  a  smile.  "  What  is 
the  matter,  Duane  ?  What  do  you  mean  by  peril  ?  .  .  . 
You  are  scaring  me " 

"  Little  Geraldine — my  little  comrade !  Can't  you 
understand?  It  isn't  only  my  selfish  desire  for  you — it 
isn't  all  for  myself ! — I  care  more  for  you  than  that.  I 
love  you  more  deeply  than  a  mere  lover!  Must  I 
say  more  to  you?  Must  I  even  hurt  you?  Must  I  tell 
you  what  I  know — of  you?  " 

"W-what?"  she  asked,  startled. 

He  looked  at  her  miserably.  In  his  eyes  she  read  a 
meaning  that  terrified  her. 

182 


TOGETHER 

"  Duane — I  don't — understand,"  she  faltered. 

"  Yes  you  do.    Let's  face  it  now !  " 

"  F-f ace  what  ?  "     Her  voice  was  only  a  whisper. 

"  I  can  tell  you  if  you'll  love  me.     Will  you  ?  " 

"  I  don't  understand,"  she  repeated  in  white-lipped 
distress.  "  Why  do  you  look  at  me  so  strangely?  And 
you  tell  me  that  I — know.  .  .  .  What  is  it  that  I  know  ? 
Couldn't  you  tell  me  ?  I  am — "  Her  voice  failed. 

"  Dear — do  you  remember — once — last  April  that 
you  were — ill?  .  .  .  And  awoke  to  find  yourself  on 
your  own  bed?  " 

"  Duane !  "     It  was  a  cry  of  terror. 

"  Dearest !  Dearest !  Do  you  think  I  have  not 
known — since  then — what  has  troubled  you — here " 

She  stared  at  him  in  crimsoned  horror  for  an  instant, 
then  with  a  dry  sob,  bowed  her  head  and  covered  her 
face  with  desperate  hands.  For  a  moment  her  whole 
body  quivered,  then  she  collapsed.  On  his  knees  beside 
her  he  bent  and  touched  with  trembling  lips  her  arms, 
her  knees,  the  slim  ankles  desperately  interlocked,  the 
tips  of  her  white  shoes. 

"  Dearest,"  he  whispered  brokenly,  "  I  know — I 
know — believe  me.  I  have  fought  through  worse,  and 
won  out.  You  said  once  that  something  had  died  out 
in  me — while  I  was  abroad.  It  did  not  die  of  itself, 
dear.  But  it  left  its  mark.  .  .  .  You  say  self-control  is 
only  depravity  afraid.  .  .  .  That  is  true;  but  I  have 
made  my  depravity  fear  me.  I  can  do  what  I  please 
with  it  now ;  I  can  tempt  it,  laugh  at  it,  silence  it.  But 
it  cost  me  something  to  make  a  slave  of  it — what  you 
saw  in  my  face  is  the  claw-mark  it  left  fighting  me  to 
the  death." 

Very  straight  on  his  knees  beside  her  he  bent  again, 
pressing  her  rigid  knees  with  his  lips. 
13  183 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  I  need  you,  Geraldine — I  need  all  that  is  best  in 
you;  you  must  love  me — take  me  as  an  ally,  dear, 
against  all  that  is  worst  in  you.  I'll  love  you  so  con 
fidently  that  we'll  kill  it — you  and  I  together — my 
strength  and  yours,  my  bitter  and  deep  understanding 
and  your  own  sweet  contempt  for  weakness  wherever  it 
may  be,  even  in  yourself." 

He  touched  her ;  and  she  shuddered  under  the  light 
caress,  still  bent  almost  double,  and  covering  her  face 
with  both  hands.  He  bent  over  her,  one  knee  on  the 
divan. 

"  Let's  pull  ourselves  together  and  talk  sense,  Ger 
aldine,"  he  said  with  an  effort  at  lightness. 

"  Don't  you  remember  that  bully  little  girl  who 
swung  her  fists  in  single  combat  and  uppercut  her 
brother  and  me  whenever  her  sense  of  fairness  was  out 
raged?  The  time  has  come  when  you,  who  were  so  fair 
to  others,  are  going  to  be  fair  to  yourself  by  marrying 
me " 

She  dropped  both  hands  and  stared  at  him  out  of 
wide,  tear- wet  eyes. 

"  Fair  to  myself — at  your  expense,  Duane  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?    I  love  you." 

"  Am  I  to  let  you — you  marry  me — knowing — what 
you  know?  Is  that  what  you  call  my  sense  of  fair 
ness  ?  "  And,  as  he  attempted  to  speak : 

"  Oh,  I  have  thought  about  it  already ! — I  must  have 
been  conscious  that  this  would  happen  some  day — that 
— that  I  was  capable  of  caring  for  you — and  it  alarmed 
me " 

"  Are  you  capable  of  loving  me  ?  " 

"  Duane,  you  must  not  ask  me  that !  " 

"  Tell  me !  " 

But  she  pushed  him  back,  and  they  faced  each  other, 
184 


TOGETHER 


her  hands  remaining  on  his  shoulders.  She  strove  pite- 
ously  to  endure  his  gaze,  flinched,  strove  to  push  him 
from  her  again — but  the  slender  hands  lay  limply 
against  him.  So  they  remained,  her  hands  at  intervals 
nervously  tightening  and  relaxing  on  his  shoulders,  her 
tearful  breath  coming  faster,  the  dark  eyes  closing, 
opening,  turning  from  him,  toward  him,  searching,  now 
in  his  soul,  now  in  her  own,  her  self-command  slipping 
from  her. 

"  It  is  cowardly  in  me — if  I  do  it,"  she  said  in  the 
ghost  of  a  voice. 

"Do  what?" 

"  Let  you  risk — what  I  m-might  become." 

"  You  little  saint !  " 

"  Some  saints  were  depraved  at  first — weren't 
they  ?  "  she  said  without  a  smile.  "  Oh,  Duane,  Duane, 
to  think  I  could  ever  be  here  speaking  to  you  about — 
about  the  horror  that  has  happened  to  me — looking  into 
your  face  and  giving  up  my  dreadful  secret  to  you — 
laying  my  very  soul  naked  before  you!  How  can  I 
look  at  you " 

"  Because  I  love  you.  Now  give  me  the  right  to 
your  lips  and  heart !  " 

There  was  a  long  silence.    Then  she  tried  to  smile. 

"  My — my  lips  ?  I — thought  you  took  such  things 
—lightly—" 

She  hesitated,  glanced  up  at  him,  then  began  to 
tremble. 

"  Duane — if  you  are  in  earnest  about  our — about 
an  engagement — promise  me  that  I  may  be  released  if 
I— think  best " 

"Why?" 


"  I— I  might  fail " 

"  The  more  need  of  me.     But  you  can't  fail- 
185 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"Yes,  but  if  I  should,  dear.  Will  you  release  me? 
I  cannot — I  will  not  engage  myself  to  you — unless  you 
promise  to  let  me  go  if  I  think  it  best.  You  know  what 
my  word  means.  Give  it  back  to  me  if  matters  go 
wrong  with  me.  Will  you  ?  " 

"  But  I  am  going  to  marry  you  now !  "  he  said  with 
a  short,  excited  laugh. 

"  Now !  "  she  repeated,  appalled. 

"  Certainly,  to  make  sure  of  you.  We  don't  need  a 
license  in  this  State.  There's  a  parson  at  West  Gate 
Village.  ...  I  intend  to  make  sure  of  you  now.  You 
can  keep  it  a  secret  if  you  like.  When  you  return  to 
town  we  can  have  everything  en  regie — engagement  an 
nounced,  cards,  church  wedding,  and  all  that.  Mean 
while  I'm  going  to  be  sure  of  you." 

"W-when?" 

"  This  afternoon." 

His  excitement  thrilled  her;  a  vivid  colour  surged 
over  neck  and  brow. 

"  Duane,  I  did  not  dream  that  you  cared  so  much, 
so  truly — Oh,  I — I  do  love  you  then! — I  love  you, 
Duane !  I  love  you !  " 

He  drew  her  suddenly  into  his  arms,  close,  closer; 
she  lifted  her  face ;  he  kissed  her ;  and  she  gave  him  her 
heart  with  a  sob. 

"  You  will  wait  for  m-me,  won't  you?  "  she  stam 
mered,  striving  to  keep  her  reason  through  the  delicious 
tumult  that  swept  her  senses.  "  Before  I  m-marry  you 
I  must  be  quite  certain  that  you  take  no  risk " 

She  looked  up  into  his  steady  eyes ;  a  passion  of  ten 
derness  overwhelmed  her,  and  her  locked  arms  tightened 
around  his  neck. 

"  Oh,"  she  whispered,  "  you  are  the  boy  I  loved  so 
long,  so  long  ago — my  comrade  Duane — my  own  little 

186 


TOGETHER 


boy!  How  was  I  to  know  I  loved  you  this  way,  too? 
How  could  I  understand !  " 

Already  the  glamour  of  the  past  was  transfiguring 
the  man  for  her,  changing  him  back  into  the  lad  she  had 
ruled  so  long  ago,  glorifying  him — drawing  them  to 
gether  into  that  golden  age  where  her  ears  already 
caught  the  far  cries  and  laughter  of  the  past. 

Now,  her  arms  around  him,  she  looked  at  him  and 
looked  at  him  as  though  she  had  not  set  eyes  on  him 
since  then. 

"  Of  course,  I  love  you,"  she  said  impatiently,  as 
though  surprised  and  hurt  that  he  or  she  had  ever 
doubted  it.  "  You  always  were  mine ;  you  are  mine! 
Nobody  else  could  ever  have  had  you — no  matter  what 
you  did — or  what  I  did.  .  .  .  And  nobody  except  you 
could  ever,  ever  have  had  me.  That  is  perfectly  plain 
now.  .  .  .  Oh,  you — you  darling " — she  murmured, 
drawing  his  face  against  hers.  Tears  sprang  to  her 
brown  eyes ;  her  mouth  quivered. 

"  You  will  love  me,  won't  you  ?  Because  I'm  going 
quite  mad  about  you,  Duane.  ...  I  don't  think  I  know 
just  what  I'm  saying — or  what  I'm  doing." 

She  drew  him  closer ;  he  caught  her,  crushing  her  in 
his  arms,  and  she  yielded,  clung  to  him  for  a  moment, 
drew  back  in  flushed  resistance,  still  bewildered  by  her 
own  passion.  Then,  into  her  eyes  came  that  divine 
beauty  which  comes  but  once  on  earth — innocence  awak 
ened  ;  and  the  white  lids  drooped  a  little,  and  the  mouth 
quivered,  surrendering  with  a  sigh. 

"  You  never  have,  never  could  love  any  other  man  ? 
Say  it.     I  know  it,  but — say  it,  sweetheart !  " 
"  Only  you,  Duane." 
"  Are  you  happy  ?  " 

187 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  am  in  heaven." 

She  closed  her  eyes — opening  them  almost  immedi 
ately  and  passing  one  hand  across  his  face  as  though 
afraid  he  might  have  vanished. 

"  You  are  there  yet,"  she  murmured  with  a  faint 
smile. 

"  So  are  you,"  he  whispered,  laughing — "  my  little 
dream  girl — my  little  brown-eyed,  brown-haired,  long- 
legged,  swift-running,  hard-hitting " 

"  Oh,  do  you  remember  that  dreadful  blow  I  gave 
you  when  we  were  sparring  in  the  library  ?  Did  it  hurt 
you,  my  darling — I  was  sure  it  did,  but  you  never  would 
admit  it.  Tell  me  now,"  she  coaxed,  adorable  in  her 
penitence. 

"  Well — yes,  it  did."  He  laughed  under  his  breath 
— "  I  don't  mind  telling  you  now  that  it  fractured  the 
bridge  of  my  nose." 

"  What !  " — in  horror.  "  That  perfectly  delicious 
straight  nose  of  yours !  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  it  fixed,"  he  said,  laughing.  "  If  you 
deal  me  no  more  vital  blows  than  that  I'll  never 
mind " 

"  I — deal  you  a — a  blow,  Duane !     //  " 

"  For     instance,     by     not     marrying     me     right 


away 

"  Dear— I  can't." 

The  smile  had  died  out  in  her  eyes  and  on  her  lips. 

"  You  know  I  can't,  don't  you  ?  "  she  said  tenderly. 
"  You  know  I've  got  to  be  fair  to  you."  Her  face  grew 
graver.  "  Dear — when  I  stop  and  try  to  think — it  dis 
mays  me  to  understand  how  much  in  love  with  you  I  am. 
.  .  .  Because  it  is  too  soon.  ...  It  would  be  safer  to 
wait  before  I  start  to  love  you — this  way.  There  is  a 

cowardly  streak  in  me — a  weak  streak " 

188 


TOGETHER 


"  What  blessed  nonsense  you  do  talk,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  No,  dear." 

She  moved  slightly  toward  him,  settling  close,  as 
though  within  the  circle  of  his  arms  lay  some  occult  pro 
tection. 

For  a  while  she  lay  very  close  to  him,  her  pale  face 
pressed  against  his  shoulder,  brown  eyes  remote. 
Neither  spoke.  After  a  long  time  she  laid  her  hands 
on  his  arms,  gently  disengaging  them,  and,  freeing  her 
self,  sprang  to  her  feet.  A  new,  lithe  and  lovely  dignity 
seemed  to  possess  her — an  exquisite,  graceful,  indefin 
able  something  which  lent  a  hint  of  splendour  to  her 
as  she  turned  and  looked  down  at  him. 

Then,  mischievously  tender,  she  stooped  and  touched 
her  childish  mouth  to  his — her  cheek,  her  throat,  her 
hair,  her  lids,  her  hands,  in  turn  all  brushed  his  lips  with 
fragrance — the  very  ghost  of  contact,  the  exquisite 
mockery  of  caress. 

"  If  you  don't  go  at  once,"  she  murmured,  "  I'll 
never  let  you  go  at  all.  Wait — let  me  see  if  anybody  is 
in  the  corridor " 

She  opened  the  door  and  looked  out. 

"  Not  a  soul,"  she  whispered,  "  our  reputations  are 
still  intact.  Good-bye — I'll  put  on  a  fresh  gown  and 
meet  you  in  ten  minutes!  .  .  .  Where?  Oh,  anywhere 
— anywhere,  Duane.  The  Lake.  Oh,  that  is  too  far 
away!  Wait  here  on  the  stairs  for  me — that  isn't  so 
far  away — just  sit  on  the  stairs  until  I  come.  Do  you 
promise?  Truly?  Oh,  you  angel  boy !  .  .  .  Yes — but 
only  one  more,  then — to  be  quite  sure  that  you  won't 
forget  to  wait  on  the  stairs  for  me.  ..." 


CHAPTER    VIII 

AN  AFTERGLOW 

DELICIOUSLY  weary,  every  fibre  in  her  throbbing 
with  physical  fatigue,  she  had  nevertheless  found  it  im 
possible  to  sleep. 

The  vivid  memory  of  Duane  holding  her  in  his  arms, 
while  she  gave  her  heart  to  him  with  her  lips,  left  her 
tremulous  and  confused  by  emotions  of  which  she  yet 
knew  little. 

Toward  dawn  a  fever  of  unrest  drove  her  from  her 
hot,  crushed  pillows  to  the  cool  of  the  open  casements. 
The  morning  was  dark  and  very  still ;  no  breeze  stirred ; 
a  few  big,  widely  scattered  stars  watched  her.  For  a 
long  while  she  stood  there  trying  to  quiet  the  rapid 
pulse  and  fast  breathing;  and  at  length,  with  an  ex 
cited  little  laugh,  she  sank  down  among  the  cushions  on 
the  window-seat  and  lay  back  very  still,  her  head,  with 
its  glossy,  disordered  hair,  cradled  in  her  arms. 

"  Is  this  love?  "  she  said  to  herself.  "  Is  this  what 
it  is  doing  to  me  ?  Am  I  never  again  going  to  sleep  ?  " 

But  she  could  not  lie  still ;  her  restless  hands  began 
groping  about  in  the  darkness,  and  presently  the  fire 
from  a  cigarette  glimmered  red. 

She  remained  quiet  for  a  few  moments,  elbow  among 
the  pillows,  cheek  on  hand,  watching  the  misty  spirals 
float  through  the  open  window.  After  a  while  she  sat 
up  nervously  and  tossed  the  cigarette  from  her.  Like  a 
falling  star  the  spark  whirled  earthward  in  a  wide 

190 


AN   AFTERGLOW 


curve,  glowed  for  a  few  seconds  on  the  lawn  below,  and 
slowly  died  out. 

Then  an  inexplicable  thing  occurred.  Unthink 
ingly  she  had  turned  over  and  extended  her  arm, 
searching  in  the  darkness  behind  her.  There  came  a 
tinkle,  a  vague  violet  perfume,  and  the  starlight  fell  on 
her  clustering  hair  and  throat  as  she  lifted  and  drained 
the  brimming  glass. 

Suddenly  she  stood  up;  the  frail,  crystal  glass  fell 
from  her  fingers,  splintering  on  the  stone  sill ;  and  with 
a  quick,  frightened  intake  of  breath,  lips  still  wet  and 
scented,  and  the  fire  of  it  already  stealing  through  her 
veins,  she  awoke  to  stunned  comprehension  of  what  she 
had  done. 

For  a  moment  only  startled  astonishment  dominated 
her.  That  she  could  have  done  this  thing  so  instinct 
ively  and  without  forethought  or  intent,  seemed  impos 
sible.  She  bowed  her  head  in  her  hands,  striving  des 
perately  to  recollect  the  circumstances ;  she  sprang  to 
her  feet  and  paced  the  darkened  room,  trying  to  under 
stand.  A  terrified  and  childish  surprise  possessed  her, 
which  changed  slowly  to  anger  and  impatience  as  she 
began  to  realise  the  subtle  treachery  that  habit  had 
practised  on  her — so  stealthy  is  habit,  betraying  the 
body  unawares. 

Overwhelmed  with  consternation,  she  seated  herself 
to  consider  the  circumstances ;  little  flashes  of  alarm  as 
sisted  her.  Then  a  sort  of  delicate  madness  took  pos 
session  of  her,  deafening  her  ears  to  the  voice  of  fear. 
She  refused  to  be  afraid. 

As  she  sat  there,  both  hands  unconsciously  indent 
ing  her  breast,  the  clamour  and  tumult  of  her  senses 
drowned  the  voice  within. 

No,  she  would  not  be  afraid ! — though  the  burning 
14  191 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


perfume  was  mounting  to  her  head  with  every  breath 
and  the  glow  grew  steadily  in  her  body,  creeping  from 
vein  to  vein.  No,  she  would  not  be  afraid.  It  could 
never  happen  again.  She  would  be  on  her  guard  after 
this.  .  .  .  Besides,  the  forgetfulness  had  been  so  mo 
mentary,  the  imprudence  so  very  slight  .  .  .  and  it 
had  helped  her,  too — it  was  already  making  her  sleepy 
.  .  .  and  she  had  needed  something  to  quiet  her — 
needed  sleep.  .  .  . 

After  a  long  while  she  turned  languidly  and  picked 
up  the  little  crystal  flask  from  the  dresser — an  antique 
bit  of  glass  which  Rosalie  had  given  her. 

Dawn  whitened  the  edges  of  the  sky ;  the  birds  were 
becoming  very  noisy.  She  lifted  the  curiously  cut 
relic;  an  imprisoned  fluid  glimmered  with  pale-violet 
light — some  scented  French  distillation  which  Rosalie 
affected  because  nobody  else  had  ever  heard  of  it — an 
aromatic,  fiery  essence,  faintly  perfumed. 

For  a  moment  the  girl  gazed  at  it  curiously.  Then, 
on  deliberate  impulse,  she  filled  another  glass. 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  she  said  to  herself ;  "  if  I 
am  capable  of  controlling  myself  at  all,  I  must  begin 
now.  If  I  should  touch  this  it  would  be  excess.  ...  I 
would  like  to,  but  " — she  flung  the  contents  from  the 
window — "  I  won't.  And  that  is  the  way  I  am  able  to 
control  myself." 

She  smiled,  set  the  glass  aside,  and  raised  her  eyes 
to  the  paling  stars.  When  at  last  she  stretched  herself 
out  on  the  bed,  dawn  was  already  lighting  the  room, 
but  she  fell  asleep  at  once. 

It  was  a  flushed  and  rather  heavy  slumber,  not  per 
fectly  natural;  and  when  Kathleen  entered  at  nine 
o'clock,  followed  by  Geraldine's  maid  with  the  breakfast- 
tray,  the  girl  still  lay  with  face  buried  in  her  hair, 

192 


breathing  deeply  and  irregularly,  her  lashes  wet  with 
tears. 

The  maid  retired;  Kathleen  bent  low  over  the  fev 
erishly  parted  lips,  kissed  them,  hesitated,  drew  back 
sharply,  and  cast  a  rapid  glance  around  the  room. 
Then  she  went  over  to  the  dressing-table  and  lifted 
Rosalie's  antique  fla9on ;  and  set  it  back  slowly,  as  the 
girl  turned  her  face  on  the  pillow  and  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Is  that  you,  Kathleen?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

For  a  few  seconds  she  lay  quite  motionless,  then, 
rising  on  one  elbow,  she  passed  the  backs  of  her  fingers 
across  her  lids,  laughed  sleepily,  and  straightened  up, 
freeing  her  eyes  from  the  confusion  of  her  hair. 

"  I've  had  horrid  dreams.  I've  been  crying  in  my 
sleep.  Come  here,"  she  said,  stretching  out  her  arms, 
and  Kathleen  went  slowly. 

The  girl  pulled  her  head  down,  linking  both  arms 
around  her  neck: 

"  You  darling,  can  you  ever  guess  what  miracle 
happened  to  me  yesterday  ?  " 

"No.  .  .  .  What?" 

"  I  promised  to  marry  Duane  Mallett !  " 

There  was  no  reply.  The  girl  clung  to  her  ex 
citedly,  burying  her  face  against  Kathleen's  cheek, 
then  released  her  with  a  laugh,  and  saw  her  face — 
saw  the  sorrowful  amazement  in  it,  the  pain. 

"  Kathleen !  "  she  exclaimed,  startled,  "  what  is  the 
matter?" 

Mrs.  Severn  dropped  down  on  the  bed's  edge,  her 
hands  loosely  clasped.  Geraldine's  brown  eyes  searched 
hers  in  hurt  astonishment. 

"Aren't  you  glad  for  me,  Kathleen?  What  is  it? 
Why  do  you — "  And  all  at  once  she  divined,  and  the 

193 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


hot  colour  stained  her  from  brow  to  throat.  Kathleen 
bent  forward  swiftly  and  caught  her  in  her  arms  with 
a  smothered  cry ;  but  the  girl  freed  herself  and  leaned 
back,  breathing  fast. 

"  Duane  knows  about  me,"  she  said.     "  I  told  him." 
"  He  knew  before  you  told  him,  my  darling." 
Another  wave  of  scarlet  swept  Geraldine's  face. 
"  That  is  true.  .  .  .  He  found  out — last  April.  .  .  . 
But  he  and  I  are  not  afraid.    I  promised  him — "    And 
her  voice  failed  as  the  memory  of  the  night's  indulgence 
flashed  in  her  brain. 

Kathleen  began :  "  You  promised  me,  too — "  And 
her  voice  also  failed. 

There  was  a  silence ;  the  girl's  eyes  turned  miser 
ably  toward  the  dressing-table,  closed  with  a  slow, 
inward  breath  which  ended  like  a  sob;  and  again  she 
was  in  Kathleen's  arms — struggled  from  them  only  to 
drop  her  head  on  Kathleen's  knees  and  lie,  tense  face 
hidden,  both  hands  clenched.  The  wave  of  grief  and 
shame  swept  her  and  passed. 

After  a  while  she  spoke  in  a  hard  little  voice: 
"  It  is  foolish  to  say  I  cannot  control  myself.  .  .  . 
I  did  not  think  what  I  was  doing  last  night — that  was 
all.  Duane  knows  my  danger — tendency,  I  mean.  He 
isn't  worried;  he  knows  that  I  can  take  care  of  my 
self " 

"  Don't  marry  him  until  you  know  you  can." 
"  But  I  am  perfectly  certain  of  myself  now !  " 
"  Only  prove  it,  darling.     Be  frank  with  me.     Who 
in  the  world  loves  you  as  I  do,  Geraldine?    Who  desires 
happiness  for  you  as  I  do?     What  have  I  in  life  be 
sides  you  and  Scott?  .  .  .  And  lately,  dearest — I  must 
speak  as  I  feel — something — some  indefinable  constraint 
seems  to  have  grown  between  you  and  me — something — 

194 


AN   AFTERGLOW 


I  don't  exactly  know  what — that  threatens  our  intimate 
understanding " 

"  No,  there  is  nothing !  " 

"  Be  honest  with  me,  dear.     What  is  it  ?  " 

The  girl  lay  silent  for  a  while,  then: 

"  I  don't  know  myself.  I  have  been — worried.  It 
may  have  been  that." 

"  Worried  about  yourself,  you  poor  lamb?  " 

"  A  little.  .  .  .  And  a  little  about  Duane." 

"  But,  darling,  if  Duane  loves  you,  that  is  all 
cleared  up,  isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  But  for  a  long  time  he  and  Rosalie 
made  me  perfectly  wretched.  ...  I  didn't  know  I  was 
in  love  with  him,  either.  .  .  .  And  I  couldn't  sleep  very 
much,  and  I — I  simply  couldn't  tell  you  how  unhappy 
they  were  making  me — and  I — sometimes — now  and 
then — in  fact,  very  often,  I — formed  the  custom  of — 
doing  what  I  ought  not  to  have  done — to  steady  my 
nerves — in  fact,  I  simply  let  myself  go — badly." 

"  Oh,  my  darling !  My  darling !  Couldn't  you  have 
told  me — let  me  sit  with  you,  talk,  read  to  you — love 
you  to  sleep?  Why  did  you  do  this,  Geraldine?" 

"  Nothing — very  disgraceful — ever  happened.  It 
only  helped  me  to  sleep  when  I  was  excited  and  miser 
able.  .  .  .  I — I  didn't  care  what  I  did — Duane  and 
Rosalie  made  me  so  wretched.  And  there  seemed  no  use 
in  my  trying  to  be  different  from  others,  and  I  thought 
I  might  as  well  be  as  rotten  as  everybody.  But  I  tried 
and  couldn't — I  tried,  for  instance,  to  misbehave  with 
Jack  Dysart,  but  I  couldn't — and  I  only  hated  myself 
and  him  and  Rosalie  and  Duane ! " 

She  sat  up,  flushed,  dishevelled,  lips  quivering.  "  I 
want  to  confess !  I've  been  horribly  depraved  for  a 
week !  I  gambled  with  the  Pink  'uns  and  swore  as  fash- 

195 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


ionably  as  I  knew  how!  I  scorched  my  tongue  with 
cigarettes ;  I  sat  in  Bunny  Gray's  room  with  the  door 
bolted  and  let  him  teach  me  how  to  make  silver  fizzes 
and  Chinese  juleps  out  of  Rose  wine  and  saki!  I  let 
Jack  Dysart  retain  my  hand — and  try  to  kiss  me — 
several  times " 

"Geraldine!" 

"  I  did.    I  wanted  to  be  horrid." 

She  sat  there  breathing  fast,  her  big  brown  eyes 
looking  defiantly  at  Kathleen,  but  the  child's  mouth 
quivered  beyond  control  and  the  nervous  hands  tight 
ened  and  relaxed. 

"  How  bad  have  I  been,  Kathleen  ?  It  sounds  pretty 
bad  to  tell  it.  But  Muriel  says  '  damn ! '  and  Rosalie 
says  '  the  devil ! '  and  when  anything  goes  wrong  and 
I  say,  *  Oh,  fluff ! '  I  mean  swearing,  so  I  thought  I'd 
do  it.  .  .  .  And  almost  every  woman  I  know  smokes 
and  has  her  favourite  cocktail,  and  they  all  bet  and 
play  for  stakes;  and  from  what  I  hear  talked  about, 
nobody's  conduct  is  modified  because  anybody  happens 
to  be  married " 

The  horror  in  Kathleen's  blue  eyes  checked  her;  she 
hid  her  face  in  her  hands  for  a  moment,  then  flung 
out  her  arms  and  crushed  Kathleen  to  her  breast. 

"  I'm  going  to  tell  Duane  how  I've  behaved.  I 
couldn't  rest  until  he  knows  the  very  worst  .  .  .  how 
fearfully  common  and  bad  a  girl  I  can  be.  Darling, 
don't  break  down.  I  don't  want  to  go  any  closer  to 
the  danger  line  than  I've  been.  And,  oh,  I'm  so 
ashamed,  so  humiliated — I — I  wish  I  could  go  to  Duanq 
as — as  clean  and  sweet  and  innocent  as  he  would  have 
me.  For  he  is  the  dearest  boy — and  I  love  him  so, 
Kathleen.  I'm  so  silly  about  him.  .  .  .  I've  got  to  tell 
him  how  I  behaved,  haven't  I?  " 

196 


AN   AFTERGLOW 


"  Are — are  you  going  to  ?  " 

"  Of  course  I  am ! "  .  .  .  She  drew  away  and  sat 
up  very  straight  in  bed,  serious,  sombre-eyed,  hands 
clasped  tightly  about  her  knees. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  as  though  to  herself, 
"  it  is  curious  that  a  trivial  desire  for  anything  like 
that  " — pointing  to  Rosalie's  gift — "  should  make  me 
restless — annoy  me,  cause  me  discomfort.  I  can't  un 
derstand  why  it  should  actually  torment  me.  It  really 
does,  sometimes." 

"  That  is  the  terrible  part  of  it,"  faltered  Kath 
leen.  "  For  God's  sake,  keep  clear  of  anything  with 
even  the  fain-test  odour  of  alcohol  about  it.  ... 
Where  did  you  find  that  cut-glass  thing?  " 

"  Rosalie  gave  it  to  me." 

"What  is  in  it?" 

"  I  don't  know — creme  de  something  or  other." 

Kathleen  took  the  girl's  tightly  clasped  hands  in 
hers: 

"  Geraldine,  you've  got  to  be  square  to  Duane. 
You  can't  marry  him  until  you  cleanse  yourself,  until 
you  scour  yourself  free  of  this  terrible  inclination  for 
stimulants." 

"  H-how  can  I  ?    I  don't  intend,  ever  again,  to 

"  Prove  it  then.     Let  sufficient  time  elapse " 

"How  long?     A — year?" 

"  Dear,  if  you  will  show  a  clean  record  of  self-con 
trol  for  a  year  I  ask  no  more.  It  ought  not  to  be  diffi 
cult  for  you  to  dominate  this  silly  weakness.  Your 
will-power  is  scarcely  tainted.  What  fills  me  with  fear 
is  this  habit  you  have  formed  of  caressing  danger — 
this  childish  trifling  with  something  which  is  still  asleep 
in  you — with  all  that  is  weak  and  ignoble.  It  is  there 
— it  is  in  all  of  us — in  you,  too.  Don't  rouse  it ;  it  is 

197 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


still  asleep  —  merely  a  little  restless  in  its  slumber 
— but,  oh,  Geraldine!  Geraldine! — if  you  ever  awake 
it! — if  you  ever  arouse  it  to  its  full,  fierce  conscious 
ness " 

"  I  won't,"  said  the  girl  hastily.  "  Oh,  I  won't,  I 
won't,  Kathleen,  darling.  I  do  know  it's  in  me — I  feel 
that  if  I  ever  let  myself  go  I  could  be  reckless  and 
wicked.  But  truly,  truly,  I  won't.  I — darling,  you 
mustn't  cry — please,  don't — because  you  are  making  me 
cry.  I  cried  in  my  sleep,  too.  ...  I  ought  to  be  very 
happy — "  She  forced  a  laugh  through  the  bright 
tears  fringing  her  lashes,  bent  forward  swiftly,  kissed 
Kathleen,  and  sprang  from  the  bed. 

"  I  want  my  bath  and  breakfast !  "  she  cried.  "  If 
I'm  to  be  a  Louis  XVI  doll  this  week,  it's  time  my 
face  was  washed  and  my  sawdust  reinforced.  Do  fix 
my  tray,  dear,  while  I'm  in  the  bath — and  ring  for  my 
maid.  .  .  .  And  when  you  go  down  you  may  tell  Duane 
to  wait  for  me  on  the  stairs.  It's  good  discipline ;  he'll 
find  it  stupid  because  I'll  be  a  long  time — but,  oh, 
Kathleen,  it  is  perfectly  heavenly  to  bully  him ! " 

Later  she  sent  a  note  to  him  by  her  maid: 

"  To  THE  ONLY  MAN  IN  THE  WORLD, 

ON  THE  STAIRS. 

"  Patient  Sir:  If  you  will  go  to  the  large  beech- 
tree  beyond  Hurryon  Gate  and  busy  yourself  by  carv 
ing  upon  it  certain  initials  intertwined  within  the  cir 
cumscribed  outlines  of  a  symbol  popularly  supposed  to 
represent  a  human  heart,  your  industry  will  be  pres 
ently  and  miraculously  rewarded  by  the  apparition  of 
her  who  presumably  occupies  no  inconsiderable  place 
in  your  affections." 

198 


AN  AFTERGLOW 


At  the  Hurryon  Gate  Duane  found  Rosalie  trying 
to  unlock  it,  a  dainty,  smiling  Rosalie,  fresh  as  a  blos 
som,  and  absurdly  like  a  schoolgirl  with  her  low-cut 
collar,  snowy  neck,  and  the  thick  braid  of  hair.  Under 
her  arm  she  carried  her  bathing-dress. 

"  I'm  going  for  a  swim ;  I  nearly  perished  with  the 
heat  last  night.  .  .  .  Did  you  sleep  well,  Duane  ?  " 

"  Rather  well." 

She  hesitated,  looked  up :  "  Are  you  coming  with 
me?" 

"  Lhave  aTi  appointment." 

"Oh!  ....  Are  you  going  to  let  me  go  alone?  " 
,   He  laughed :  "  I've  no  choice ;  I  really  have  an  ap 
pointment  this  morning." 

She  inspected  him,  drew  a  step  nearer,  laid  both 
hands  lightly  on  his  shoulders. 

"  Duane,  dear,"  she  said,  "  are  you  really  going  to 
let  me  drift  past  you  out  to  sea — after  all?  " 

"  What  else  can  I  do  ?  Besides,  you  are  not  going 
to  drift." 

"  Yes,  I  am.    You  were  very  nice  to  me  yesterday." 

"  It  was  you  who  were  very  sweet  to  me.  .  .  .  But 
I  told  you  how  matters  stand.  You  care  for  your  hus 
band." 

"  Yes,  you  did  tell  me.  But  it  is  not  true.  I 
thought  about  it  all  night  long;  I  find  that  I  do  not 
care  for  him — as  you  told  me  I  did." 

He  said,  smiling :  "  Nor  do  you  really  care  for 
me." 

"  I  could  care." 

Her  hands  still  lay  lightly  on  his  shoulders;  he 
smilingly  disengaged  them,  saluted  the  finger  tips,  and 
swung  them  free. 

"  No,  you  couldn't,"  he  said — "  nor  could  I." 
199 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  clasped  her  hands  behind  her,  confronting  him 
with  that  gaily  audacious  allure  which  he  knew  so  well: 

"  Does  a  man  really  care  whether  or  not  he  is  in 
love  with  a  woman  before  he  makes  love  to  her?  " 

"  Do  you  want  an  honest  answer  ?  " 

"  Please." 

"  Well,  then — if  she  is  sufficiently  attractive,  a  man 
doesn't  usually  care." 

"  Am  I  sufficiently  attractive?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Then — why  do  you  hesitate?  .  .-*  I  know  r  the 
rules  of  the  game.  When_one  wearjes,  thejDther  mus^t 
pretend_to.  .  .  .  And^thenJ;hey_jnaJke  their  adieux  very 
amiably.  .  .  .  Isn't  that  a  man's  ideal  of  an  affair  with 
a  pretty  woman  ?  " 

He  laughed :  "  I  suppose  so." 

"  So  do  I.    You  are  no  novice,  are  you — as  I  am  ?  " 

"  Are  you  a  novice,  Rosalie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am.  You  probably  don't  believe  it.  It  is 
absurd,  isn't  it,  considering  these  lonely  years — con 
sidering  what  he  has  done — that  I  haven't  anything 
with  which  to  reproach  myself." 

"  It  is  very  admirable,"  he  said. 

"  Oh,  yes,  theoretically.  I  was  too  fastidious — per 
haps  a  little  bit  too  decent.  It's  curious  how  inculcated 
morals  and  early  precepts  make  mountains  out  of  what 
is  really  very  simple  travelling.  If  a  woman  ceases  to 
love  her  husband,  she  is  going  to  miss  too  much  in 
life  if  she's  afraid  to  love  anybody  else.  ...  I  su£jx>se 
I  hase  been  afraid." 

"  It's  rather  a  wholesome  sort  of  fear,"  he  said. 

"  Wholesome  as  breakfast-food.  I  hate  it.  Be 
sides,  the  fear  doesn't  exist  any  more,"  shaking  her 
head.  "  Like  the  pretty  girls  in  a  very  popular  and 

200 


'AN   AFTERGLOW 


profoundly  philosophical  entertainment,  I've  simply  got 
to  love  somebody  " — she  smiled  at  him — "  and  I'd  pre 
fer  to  fall  honestly  and  disgracefully  in  love  with  you — 
if  you'd  give  me  the  opportunity."  There  was  a  pause. 
"  Otherwise,"  she  concluded,  "  I  shall  content  myself 
with  doing  a  mischief  to  your  sex  where  I  can.  I  give 
you  the  choice,  Duane — I  give  you  the  disposal  of  my 
self.  Am  I  to  love — you? — or  be  loved  by  God  knows 
whom — and  make  him  suffer  for  it " — she  set  her 
little  even  teeth — "  and  pay  back  to  men  what  man 
has  done  to  me?  " 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said  good-humouredly ;  "  isn't 
there  anything  except  playing  at  love  that  counts  in 
the  world?" 

"  Nothing  counts  without  it.  I've  learned  that 
much." 

"  Some  people  have  done  pretty  well  without  it." 

"  You  haven't.  You  might  have  been  a  really  good 
painter  if  you  cared  for  a  woman  who  cared  for  you. 
There's  no  tenderness  in  your  work;  it's  all  technique 
and  biceps." 

He  said  gravely :  "  You  are  right." 

"  Am  I  ?  .  .  .  Do  you  think  you  could  try  to  care 
for  me — even  for  that  reason,  Duane — to  become  a  bet 
ter  painter?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said  pleasantly. 

There  was  a  silence ;  her  expression  changed  subtly, 
then  the  colour  came  back  and  she  smiled  and  nodded 
adieu. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said ;  "  I'm  going  to  get  into  all 
sorts  of  mischief.  The  black  flag  is  hoisted.  Mal- 
heur  aux  hommes!  " 

"  There's  one  now,"  said  Duane,  laughing  as  De- 
lancy  Grandcourt's  bulk  appeared  among  the  trees 

201 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


along  Hurryon  Water.  "  Lord !  what  a  bungler  he  is 
on  a  trout-stream !  " 

Rosalie  turned  and  gazed  at  the  big,  clumsy  young 
man  who  was  fishing  with  earnestness  and  method  every 
unlikely  pool  in  sight. 

"  Does  he  belong  to  anybody  ?  "  she  asked,  consid 
ering  him.  "  I  want  to  do  real  damage.  He  is  usually 
at  Geraldine's  heels,  isn't  he  ?  " 

"  Oh,  let  him  alone,"  said  Duane ;  "  he's  an  awfully 
decent  fellow.  If  a  man  of  that  slow,  plodding,  faithful 
species  ever  is  thoroughly  aroused  by  a  woman,  it  will 
be  a  lively  day  for  his  tormentor." 

Rosalie's  blue  eyes  sparkled :  "  Will  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  will.  You  had  better  not  play  hob  with 
Delancy.  Are  you  intending  to  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Look  at  the  man !  That's  the 
fourth  time  he's  landed  his  line  in  a  bush!  He'll  fall 
into  that  pool  if  he's  not — mercy ! — there  he  goes !  Did 
you  ever  see  such  a  genius  for  clumsiness  ?  " 

She  was  moving  forward  through  the  trees  as  she 
spoke ;  Duane  called  after  her  in  a  warning  voice : 

"  Don't  try  to  do  anything  to  disturb  him.  It's 
not  good  sport ;  he's  a  mighty  decent  sort,  I  tell  you." 

"  I  won't  play  any  tricks  on  your  good  young 
man,"  she  said  with  a  shrug  of  contempt,  and  saun 
tered  off  toward  the  Gray  Water.  Her  path,  however, 
crossed  Grandcourt's,  and  as  she  stepped  upon  the  foot 
bridge  she  glanced  down,  where,  wading  gingerly  in 
mid-stream,  Delancy  floundered  and  panted  and  barely 
contrived  to  maintain  a  precarious  footing,  while  send 
ing  his  flies  sprawling  down  the  rapids. 

"  Good-morning,"  she  nodded,  as  he  caught  sight 
of  her.  He  attempted  to  take  off  his  cap,  slipped,  wal 
lowed,  and  recovered  his  balance  by  miracle  alone. 


AN  AFTERGLOW 


"  There's  a  thumping  big  trout  under  that  bridge," 
he  informed  her  eagerly;  "he  ran  downstream  just 
now,  but  I  can't  seem  to  raise  him." 

"  You  splash  too  much.  You'd  probably  raise  him 
if  you  raised  less  of  something  else." 

"  Is  that  it  ?  "  he  inquired  innocently.  "  I  try  not 
to,  but  I  generally  manage  to  raise  hell  with  every 
pool  before  I  get  a  chance  to  fish  it.  I'll  show  you  just 
where  he  lies.  Watch !  " 

His  cast  of  flies  whistled  wildly;  there  was  a  quick 
pang  of  pain  in  her  shoulder  and  she  gave  a  frightened 
cry. 

"  Good  Lord !  Have  I  got  you?  "  he  exclaimed, 
aghast. 

"  You  certainly  have,"  she  retorted,  exasperated, 
"  and  you  had  better  come  up  and  get  this  hook  out ! 
You'll  need  it  if  you  want  to  fish  any  more." 

Dripping  and  horrified,  he  scrambled  up  the  bank 
to  the  footbridge;  she  flinched,  but  made  no  sound,  as 
he  freed  her  from  the  hook;  a  red  stain  appeared  on 
the  sleeve  of  her  waist,  above  the  elbow. 

"  It's  fortunate  that  it  was  a  b-barbless  hook,"  he 
stammered,  horribly  embarrassed  and  contemplating 
with  dismay  the  damage  he  had  accomplished ;  "  other 
wise,"  he  added,  "  we  would  have  had  to  cut  out  the 
hook.  We're  rather  lucky,  I  think.  Is  it  very  pain 
ful?" 

"  Sufficiently,"  she  said,  disgusted.  "  But  I  sup 
pose  this  sort  of  thing  is  nothing  unusual  for  you." 

"  I've  hooked  one  or  two  people,"  he  admitted,  red 
dening.  "  I  suppose  you  won't  bother  to  forgive  me, 
but  I'm  terribly  sorry.  If  you'll  let  me  put  a  little  mud 
on  it " 

She  disdained  to  reply.  He  hovered  about  her, 
203 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


clumsily  solicitous,  and  whichever  way  she  turned,  he 
managed  to  get  underfoot,  until,  thoroughly  vexed,  she 
stood  stock-still  and  opened  her  arms  with  a  hopeless 
gesture : 

"  What  are  you  trying  to  do,  Delancy  ?  Do  you 
want  to  embrace  me?  I  wish  you  wouldn't  leap  about 
me  like  a  great  Dane  puppy !  " 

The  red  surged  up  into  his  face  anew: 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said.     "  I'm  very  sorry." 

She  looked  at  him  curiously :  "  I  beg  yours — you 
big,  silly  boy.  Don't  blush  at  me.  Great  Danes  are 
exceedingly  desirable  property,  you  know.  .  .  .  Did 
you  wish  to  be  forgiven  for  anything?  What  on  earth 
are  you  doing  with  that  horrid  fistful  of  muck?  " 

"  I  only  want  to  put  some  mud  on  that  wound,  if 
you'll  let  me.  It's  good  for  hornet  stings " 

She  laughed  and  backed  away :  "  Do  you  believe 
there  is  any  virtue  in  mud,  Delancy? — good,  deep  mire 
— when  one  is  bruised  and  sore  and  lonely  and  desper 
ate?  Oh,  don't  try  to  understand — what  a  funny,  con 
fused,  stupid  way  you  have  of  looking  at  me!  I  re 
member  you  used  to  look  at  me  that  way  sometimes — 
oh,  long  ago — before  I  was  married,  I  think." 

The  heavy  colour  which  surged  so  readily  to  his 
temples  began  to  amuse  her;  she  leaned  back  against 
the  bridge  rail  and  contemplated  him  with  smiling  dis 
dain. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  years  ago,  I  had  a 
slight,  healthy  suspicion  that  you  were  on  the  verge  of 
falling  in  love  with  me." 

He  tried  to  smile,  but  the  colour  died  out  in  his 
face. 

"  Yes,  I  was  on  the  verge,"  he  contrived  to  answer. 

"  Why  didn't  you  fall  over?  " 
204 


'AN   AFTERGLOW 


"  I  suppose  it  was  because  you  married  Jack  Dy- 
sart,"  he  said  simply. 

"Was  that  all?" 

"  All?  "  He  thought  he  perceived  the  jest,  and 
managed  to  laugh  again. 

"  Really,  I  am  perfectly  serious,"  repeated  Rosalie. 
"  Was  that  all  that  prevented  you  from  falling  in  love 
with  me — because  I  was  married?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  he  said.  "  Wasn't  it  reason 
enough  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  know  it  was  enough  for  a  man.  I  don't 
believe  I  know  exactly  how  men  consider  such  matters. 
.  .  .  You've  managed  to  hook  that  fly  into  my  gown 
again!  And  now  you've  torn  the  skirt  hopelessly! 
What  a  devastating  sort  of  creature  you  are,  Delancy ! 
You  used  to  step  on  my  slippers  at  dancing  school, 
and,  oh,  Heaven !  how  I  hated  you.  .  .  .  Where  are 
you  going?  "  for  he  had  begun  to  walk  away,  reeling 
in  his  wet  line  as  he  moved,  his  grave,  highly  coloured 
face  lowered,  troubled  eyes  intent  on  what  he  was 
doing. 

When  she  spoke,  he  halted  and  raised  his  head,  and 
she  saw  the  muscles  flexed  under  the  bronze  skin  of  the 
jaw — saw  the  lines  of  pain  appear  where  his  mouth 
tightened.  All  of  the  clumsy  boy  in  him  had  van 
ished  ;  she  had  never  troubled  herself  to  look  at  him  very 
closely,  and  it  surprised  her  to  see  how  worn  his  face 
really  was  under  the  eyes  and  cheek-bones — really  sur 
prised  her  that  there  was  much  of  dignity,  even  of  a  cer 
tain  nobility,  in  his  quiet  gaze. 

"  I  asked  you  where  you  are  going  ?  "  she  repeated 
with  a  faint  smile. 

"  Nowhere  in  particular." 

"  But  you  are  going  somewhere,  I  suppose." 
205 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  suppose  so." 

"  In  my  direction  ?  " 

"  I  think  not." 

"  That  is  very  rude  of  you,  Delancy — when  you 
don't  even  know  where  my  direction  lies.  Do  you 
think,"  she  demanded,  amused,  "  that  it  is  particularly 
civil  of  a  man  to  terminate  an  interview  with  a  woman 
before  she  offers  him  his  conge?  " 

He  finished  reeling  in  his  line,  hooked  the  drop-fly 
into  the  reel-guide,  shifted  his  creel,  buttoned  on  the 
landing-net,  and  quietly  turned  around  and  inspected 
Mrs.  Dysart. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
never,  even  as  a  boy,  had  from  you  a  single  word  which 
did  not  in  some  vague  manner  convey  a  hint  of  your 
contempt  for  me.  Do  you  realise  that?  " 

"  W-what !  "  she  faltered,  bewildered. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  do  realise  it.  People  gener 
ally  feel  toward  me  as  you  feel ;  it  has  always  been  the 
fashion  to  tolerate  me.  It  is  a  legend  that  I  am  thick- 
skinned  and  stupidly  slow  to  take  offence.  I  am  not  of 
fended  now.  .  .  .  Because  I  could  not  be  with  you.  .  .  . 
But  I  am  tired  of  it,  and  I  thought  it  better  that  you 
should  know  it — after  all  these  years." 

Utterly  confounded,  she  leaned  back,  both  hands 
tightening  on  the  hand-rail  behind  her,  and  as  she  com 
prehended  the  passionless  reproof,  a  stinging  flush 
deepened  over  her  pretty  face. 

"  Had  you  anything  else  to  say  to  me  ?  "  he  asked, 
without  embarrassment. 

"  N-no." 

"  Then  may  I  take  my  departure  ?  " 

She  lifted  her  startled  blue  eyes  and  regarded  him 
with  a  new  and  intense  curiosity. 

206 


AN   AFTERGLOW 


"  Have  I,  by  my  manner  or  speech,  ever  really  hurt 
you  ?  "  she  asked.  "  Because  I  haven't  meant  to." 

He  started  to  reply,  hesitated,  shook  his  head,  and 
his  pleasant,  kindly  smile  fascinated  her. 

"  You  haven't  intended  to,"  he  said.  It's  all  right, 
Rosalie " 

"  But — have  I  been  horrid  and  disagreeable  ?  Tell 
me." 

In  his  troubled  eyes  she  could  see  he  was  still  search 
ing  to  excuse  her;  slowly  she  began  to  recognise  the 
sensitive  simplicity  of  the  man,  the  innate  courtesy  so 
out  of  harmony  with  her  experience  among  men.  What, 
after  all,  was  there  about  him  that  a  woman  should  treat 
with  scant  consideration,  impatience,  the  toleration  of 
contempt?  His  clumsy  manner?  His  awkwardness? 
His  very  slowness  to  exact  anything  for  himself?  Or 
had  it  been  the  half-sneering,  half-humourous  attitude 
of  her  husband  toward  him  which  had  insensibly  col 
oured  her  attitude? 

She  had  known  Delancy  Grandcourt  all  her  life — 
that  is,  she  had  neglected  to  know  him,  if  this  brief 
revelation  of  himself  warranted  the  curiosity  and  inter 
est  now  stirring  her. 

"  Were  you  really  ever  in  love  with  me?  "  she  asked, 
so  frankly  that  the  painful  colour  rose  to  his  hair  again, 
and  he  stood  silent,  head  lowered,  like  a  guilty  boy 
caught  in  his  sins. 

"  But — good  heavens !  "  she  exclaimed  with  an  un 
easy  little  laugh,  "  there's  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  in 
it!  I'm  not  laughing  at  you,  Delancy;  I  am  thinking 
about  it  with — with  a  certain  re — "  She  was  going  to 
say  regret,  but  she  substituted  "  respect,"  and,  rather 
surprised  at  her  own  seriousness,  she  fell  silent,  her  un 
certain  gaze  continually  reverting  to  him. 

207 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  had  never  before  noticed  how  tall  and  well-built 
he  was,  in  spite  of  the  awkwardness  with  which  he 
moved — a  great,  big  powerful  machine,  continually 
checked  and  halted,  as  though  by  some  fear  that  his  own 
power  might  break  loose  and  smash  things.  That  seemed 
to  be  the  root  of  his  awkwardness — unskilful  self-con 
trol — a  vague  consciousness  of  the  latent  strength  of 
limb  and  body  and  will,  which  habit  alone  controlled,  and 
controlled  unskilfully. 

She  had  never  before  known  a  man  resembling  this 
new  revelation  of  Grandcourt.  Without  considering  or 
understanding  why,  she  began  to  experience  an  agree 
able  sense  of  restfulness  and  security  in  the  silence  which 
endured  between  them.  He  stood  full  in  the  sunlight, 
very  deeply  preoccupied  with  the  contents  of  his  fly- 
book;  she  leaned  back  on  the  sun-scorched  railing  of 
the  bridge,  bathing-suit  tucked  under  one  arm,  listening 
to  the  melody  of  the  rushing  stream  below.  It  seemed 
almost  like  the  intimacy  of  old  friendship,  this  quiet  in 
terval  in  the  sun,  with  the  moving  shadows  of  leaves  at 
their  feet  and  the  music  of  the  water  in  their  ears — a 
silence  unbroken  save  by  that,  and  the  pure,  sweet  call- 
note  of  some  woodland  bird  from  the  thickets  beyond. 

"  What  fly  are  you  trying  ?  "  she  asked,  dreamily 
conscious  of  the  undisturbed  accord. 

"  Wood-ibis — do  you  think  they  might  come  to  it  ?  " 
he  asked  so  naturally  that  a  sudden  glow  of  confidence 
in  him,  in  the  sunlit  world  around  her,  warmed  her. 

"  Let  me  look  at  your  book  ?  " 

He  brought  it.  Together  they  fumbled  the  bril 
liantly  patterned  aluminum  leaves,  fumbling  with  tufted 
silks  and  feathers,  until  she  untangled  a  most  allur 
ingly  constructed  fly  and  drew  it  out,  presenting  it  to 
him  between  forefinger  and  thumb. 

208 


AN   AFTERGLOW 


"Shall  we  try  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  said. 

Duane,  carving  hieroglyphics  on  the  bark  of  the  big 
beech,  raised  his  head  and  looked  after  them. 

"  That's  a  pretty  low  trick,"  he  said  to  himself,  as 
they  sauntered  away  toward  the  Gray  Water.  And  he 
scowled  in  silence  and  continued  his  carving. 


CHAPTER    IX 

CONFESSION 

So  many  guests  were  arriving  from  Iron  Hill, 
Cloudy  Mountain,  and  West  Gate  Village  that  the  ca 
pacity  of  Roya-Neh  was  overtaxed.  Room  had  to  be 
made  somehow ;  Geraldine  and  Nai'da  Mallett  doubled 
up;  twin  beds  were  installed  for  Dysart  and  Bunny 
Gray;  Rosalie  took  in  Sylvia  Quest  with  a  shrug,  dis 
daining  any  emotion,  even  curiosity,  concerning  the 
motherless  girl  whose  imprudences  with  Jack  Dysart 
had  furnished  gossip  sufficient  to  last  over  from  the 
winter. 

The  Tappans  appeared  with  their  guests,  old  Tap- 
pan  grimmer,  rustier,  gaunter  than  usual;  his  son  and 
heir,  Peter — he  of  the  rambling  and  casual  legs — more 
genial,  more  futile,  more  acquiescent  than  ever.  The 
Grays,  Beekmans,  Ellises,  and  Grandcourts  arrived; 
Catharine  Grandcourt  shared  Mrs.  Severn's  room ;  Scott 
Seagrave  went  to  quarters  at  the  West  Gate,  and  Duane 
was  driven  forth  and  a  cot-bed  set  up  for  him  in  his 
studio  at  Hurryon  Lodge. 

The  lawns  and  terraces  of  Roya-Neh  were  swarm 
ing  with  eager,  laughing  young  people;  white  skirts 
fluttered  everywhere  in  the  sun;  tennis-courts  and  lake 
echoed  with  the  gay  tumult,  motors  tooted,  smart  horses 
and  showy  traps  were  constantly  drawing  up  or  driving 
off ;  an  army  of  men  from  West  Gate  Village  were  busy 
stringing  lanterns  all  over  the  grounds,  pitching  pavil- 

210 


CONFESSION 


ions  in  the  glade  beyond  Hurryon  Gate,  and  decorating 
everything  with  ribbons,  until  Duane  suggested  to  Scott 
that  they  tie  silk  bows  on  the  wild  squirrels,  as  every 
thing  ought  to  be  a's  Louis  XVI  as  possible.  He 
himself  did  actually  so  adorn  several  respectable 
Shanghai  hens  which  he  caught  at  their  oviparous 
duties,  and  the  spectacle  left  Kathleen  weak  with 
laughter. 

As  for  Duane,  he  suddenly  seemed  to  have  grown 
years  younger.  All  that  was  careless,  inconsequential, 
irresponsible,  seemed  to  have  disappeared  in  a  single 
night,  leaving  a  fresh,  boyish  enthusiasm  quite  free  from 
surface  cynicism — quite  innocent  of  the  easy,  amused 
mockery  which  had  characterised  him.  The  subtle  ele 
ment  of  self-consciousness  had  disappeared,  too.  If  it 
had  remained  unnoticed,  even  undetected  before,  now 
its  absence  was  noticeable,  for  there  was  no  longer  any 
attitude  about  him,  no  policy  to  sustain,  nothing  of  that 
humourous,  bantering  sophistication  which  ignores  con 
ventionality.  For  it  is  always  a  conscious  effort  to 
ignore  it,  an  attitude  to  disregard  what  custom  has 
sanctioned. 

Kathleen  had  never  realised  what  a  really  sweet  and 
charming  fellow  he  was  until  that  morning,  when  he 
took  her  aside  and  told  her  of  his  engagement. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  it  is  as  though  life  had 
stopped  for  me  many  years  ago  when  Geraldine  and  I 
were  playmates;  it's  exactly  as  though  all  the  interval 
of  years  in  between  counted  less  than  a  dream,  and  now, 
at  last,  I  am  awake  and  taking  up  real  life  again.  .  .  . 
You  see,  Kathleen,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  I'm  incomplete 
by  myself.  I'm  only  half  of  a  suit  of  clothes ;  Geraldine 
always  wore  the  rest  of  me." 

"  However,"  said  Kathleen  mischievously,  "  you've 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


been  very  tireless  in  trying  on,  they  say.  It's  astonish 
ing  you  never  found  a  good  fit " 

"  That  was  all  part  of  the  dream  interval,"  he  in 
terrupted,  a  little  out  of  countenance,  "  everything  was 
absurdly  unreal.  Are  you  going  to  be  nice  to  me, 
Kathleen?" 

"  Of  course  I  am,  you  blessed  boy !  "  she  said,  taking 
him  in  her  vigorous  young  arms  and  kissing  him 
squarely  and  thoroughly.  Then  she  held  him  at  arms' 
length  and  looked  him  very  gravely  in  the  eyes : 

"  Love  her  a  great  deal,  Duane,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice ;  "  she  needs  it." 

"  I  could  not  help  doing  it." 

But  Kathleen  repeated : 

"  Love  her  enough.  She  will  be  yours  to  make — 
yours  to  unmake,  to  mould,  fashion,  remould — with 
God's  good  help.  Love  her  enough." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  very  soberly. 

A  slight  constraint  fell  between  them ;  they  spoke  of 
the  fete,  and  Kathleen  presently  left  to  superintend  de 
tails  which  never  worried  her,  never  disturbed  the  gay 
and  youthful  confidence  which  had  always  from  the  be 
ginning  marked  her  successful  superintendence  of  the 
house  of  Seagrave. 

Geraldine  and  Scott  were  very  busy  playing  hostess 
and  host,  receiving  new-comers,  renewing  friendships  in 
terrupted  by  half  a  summer's  separation ;  but  there  was 
very  little  to  do  except  to  be  affable,  for  Kathleen's  staff 
of  domestics  was  perfectly  adequate — the  old  servants 
of  the  house  of  Seagrave,  who  were  quite  able  by  them 
selves  to  maintain  the  household  traditions  and  whip 
into  line  of  duty  the  new  and  less  conscientious  recruits 
below  stairs. 

A  great  many  people  were  gathered  on  the  terrace 


CONFESSION 


when  Duane  descended  the  stairs,  on  his  way  to  inspect 
his  temporary  quarters  in  Miller's  loft,  at  Hurryon 
Lodge. 

He  stopped  and  spoke  to  many,  greeted  Delancy 
Grandcourt's  loquacious  and  rotund  mother,  politely  lis 
tened  to  her  scandalous  budget  of  gossip,  shook  hands 
cordially  with  her  big,  handsome  daughter,  Catharine,  a 
strapping  girl,  with  the  shyly  honest  eyes  of  her 
brother  and  the  rather  heavy  but  shapely  body  and 
limbs  of  an  indolent  Juno.  A  harsh  voice  pronounced 
his  name;  old  Mr.  Tappan  extended  a  dry  hand  and 
bored  him  through  with  eyes  like  holes  burnt  in  a 
blanket. 

"  And  do  you  still  cultiwate  the  fine  arts,  young 
man  ?  "  he  inquired,  as  sternly  as  though  he  privately 
suspected  Duane  of  maltreating  them. 

Duane  shook  hands  with  him. 

"  The  school  of  the  indiwidool,"  continued  Mr.  Tap- 
pan,  "  is  what  artists  need.  Woo  the  muses  in  solitude ; 
cultiwate  'em  in  isolation.  Didn't  Benjamin  West  live 
out  in  the  backwoods?  And  I  guess  he  managed  to 
make  good  without  raising  hell  in  the  Eekole  di  Boze 
Arts  with  a  lot  of  dissipated  wagabonds  at  his  elbow, 
inculcating  immoral  precepts  and  wasting  his  time  and 
his  father's  money." 

And  he  looked  very  hard  at  Duane,  who  winced,  but 
agreed  with  him  solemnly. 

Geraldine,  on  the  edge  of  a  circle  of  newly  arrived 
guests,  leaned  over  and  whispered  mischievously: 

"  Is  that  what  you  did  at  the  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts  ? 
Did  you  behave  like  all  that  or  did  you  cultivate  the  in 
diwidool  ?  " 

He  shook  hands  again,  solemnly,  with  Mr.  Tappan, 
stepped  back,  and  joined  her. 

213 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Where  on  earth  have  you  been  hiding  ?  "  she  in 
quired. 

"  You  said  that  if  I  carved  certain  cabalistic  signs 
on  the  big  beech-tree  you  would  presently  appear  to  me 
in  a  pink  cloud — you  faithless  little  wretch !  " 

"  How  could  I  ?  Three  motor-loads  arrived  from 
Iron  Hill  before  I  was  half  dressed,  and  ever  since  I've 
been  doing  my  traditional  duty ;  and,"  in  a  lower  voice, 
"  I  was  perfectly  crazy  to  go  to  the  beech-tree  all  the 
time.  Did  you  wait  long,  you  poor  boy  ?  " 

"  Man  is  born  to  wait.  I  came  back  just  now  to 
find  you.  ...  I  told  Kathleen,"  he  added,  radiant. 

"  What?  "  she  whispered,  flushing  deliciously.  "  Oh, 
poph!  I  told  her  about  it  this  morning — the  very  first 
thing.  We  both  snivelled.  I  didn't  sleep  at  all  last 
night.  .  .  .  There's  something  I  wish  to  tell  you " 

The  gay  smile  suddenly  died  out  in  her  eyes;  a 
strange,  wistful  tenderness  softened  them,  touching  her 
lips,  too,  which  always  gave  that  very  young,  almost 
childish  pathos  to  her  expression.  She  put  out  her  hand 
instinctively  and  touched  him. 

"  I  want  to  be  alone  with  you,  Duane — for  a  little 
while." 

"  Shall  I  go  to  the  beech-tree  and  wait  ?  " 

She  glanced  around  with  a  hopeless  gesture : 

"  You  see  ?  Other  people  are  arriving  and  I've  sim 
ply  got  to  be  here.  I  don't  see  how  I  can  get 
away  before  luncheon.  Where  were  you  going  just 
now?" 

"  I  thought  I'd  step  over  to  the  studio  to  see  what 
sort  of  a  shake-down  you've  given  me  to  repose  on." 

"  I  wish  you  would.  Poor  child,  I  do  hope  you  will 
be  comfortable.  It's  perfectly  horrid  to  send  you  out 

of  the  house " 

214 


CONFESSION 


"  Oh,  I  don't  mind,"  he  nodded,  laughing,  and  she 
gave  him  a  shy  glance  of  adieu  and  turned  to  receive 
another  guest. 

In  his  extemporized  studio  at  Hurryon  Lodge  he 
found  that  old  Miller  had  already  provided  him  with  a 
washstand  and  accessories,  a  new  tin  tub  and  a 
very  comfortable  iron  bed. 

The  place  was  aromatic  with  the  odour  of  paints, 
varnishes,  turpentine,  and  fixative;  he  opened  the  big 
window,  let  in  air  and  sunshine,  and  picked  up  a  sheaf 
of  brushes,  soft  and  pliable  from  a  fresh  washing  in 
turpentine  and  black  soap. 

Confronting  him  on  a  big  improvised  easel  was  the 
full-length,  half-reclining  portrait  of  Rosalie  Dysart 
— a  gay,  fascinating,  fly-away  thing  after  the  deliber 
ately  artificial  manner  of  the  French  court  painters 
who  simpered  and  painted  a  hundred  and  fifty  years 
ago.  Ribbons  fluttered  from  the  throat  and  shoulder 
of  this  demure,  fair-skinned,  and  blue-eyed  creature, 
who  was  so  palpably  playing  at  masquerade.  A  silken 
parody  of  a  shepherdess — a  laughing,  dainty,  snowy- 
fingered  aristocrat,  sweet-lipped,  provocative,  half  re 
clining  under  a  purposely  conventional  oak,  between 
the  branches  of  which  big  white  clouds  rolled  in  a 
dark-blue  sky — this  was  Rosalie  as  Duane  had  painted 
her  with  all  the  perversely  infernal  skill  of  a  brush 
always  tipped  with  a  mockery  as  delicate  as  her 
small,  bare  foot,  dropping  below  the  flowered  petti 
coat. 

The  unholy  ease  with  which  he  had  done  it  gave  him 
a  secret  thrill  of  admiration.  It  was  apparently  all 
surface — the  exquisite  masquerader,  the  surrounding 
detail,  the  technical  graciousness  and  flow  of  line  and 
contour,  the  effortless  brush-work.  Yet,  with  an  ease 
15  215 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


which  demanded  very  respectful  consideration,  he  had 
absorbed  and  transmitted  the  frivolous  spirit  of  the  old 
French  masters,  which  they  themselves  took  so  seri 
ously  ;  the  portrait  was  also  a  likeness,  yet  delightfully 
permeated  with  the  charm  of  a  light-minded  epoch ;  and 
somehow,  behind  and  underneath  it  all,  a  brilliant  mock 
ery  sparkled — the  half-amused,  half-indifferent  brill 
iancy  of  the  painter  himself.  It  was  there  for  any 
who  could  appreciate  it,  and  it  was  quite  irresistible, 
particularly  since  he  had,  after  a  dazzling  preliminary 
study  or  two  from  a  gamekeeper's  small,  chubby 
son,  added,  fluttering  in  mid-air,  a  pair  of  white- 
winged  Loves,  chubby  as  cherubs  but  much  more 
Gallic. 

Nobody  excepting  Rosalie  and  himself  had  seen  the 
picture.  What  he  meant  to  do  with  it  he  did  not  know, 
half  ashamed  as  he  was  of  its  satiric  cleverness.  Paint 
ers  would  hate  it — stand  hypnotised,  spellbound  the 
while — and  hate  it,  for  they  are  a  serious  sort,  your 
painters  of  pictures,  and  they  couldn't  appreciate  an 
art  which  made  fun  of  art ;  they  would  execrate  the  un 
canny  mastery  and  utterly  miss  the  gay  perversity  of 
the  performance,  and  Duane  knew  it  and  laughed  wick 
edly.  What  a  shock!  What  would  sober,  seriously 
inclined  people  think  if  an  actor  who  was  eminently 
fitted  to  play  Lear,  should  bow  to  his  audience  and 
earnestly  perform  a  very  complicated  and  perfect  flip- 
flap? 

Amused  with  his  own  disrespectful  reflections,  he 
stood  before  the  picture,  turning  from  it  with  a  grin 
from  time  to  time  to  compare  it  with  some  dozen 
vigorous  canvases  hanging  along  the  studio  wall — 
studies  that  he  knew  would  instantly  command  the 
owlish  respect  of  the  truly  earnest  —  connoisseurs, 

216 


CONFESSION 


critics,  and  academicians  in  this  very  earnest  land  of 
ours. 

There  was  a  Sargent-like  portrait  of  old  Miller, 
with  something  of  that  great  master's  raucous  colour 
ing  and  perhaps  intentional  discords,  and  all  of  his 
technical  effrontery ;  and  here,  too,  lurked  that  shadow 
of  mockery  ever  latent  in  the  young  man's  brush — 
something  far  more  subtle  than  caricature  or  parody 
— deeper  than  the  imitation  of  manner — something  like 
the  evanescent  caprice  of  a  strong  hand,  which  seems 
to  threaten  for  a  second,  then  passes  on  lightly,  surely, 
transforming  its  menace  into  a  caress. 

There  were  two  adorable  nude  studies  of  Miller's 
granddaughters,  aged  six  and  seven — quaintly  and  en 
gagingly  formal  in  their  naive  astonishment  at  finding 
themselves  quite  naked.  There  was  a  fine  sketch  of 
Howker,  wrinkled,  dim-eyed,  every  inch  a  butler,  every 
fibre  in  him  the  dignified  and  self-respecting,  old-time 
servant,  who  added  his  dignity  to  that  of  the  house  he 
had  served  so  long  and  well.  The  latter  picture  was 
masterly,  recalling  Gandara's  earlier  simplicity  and 
Whistler's  single-minded  concentration  without  that 
gentleman's  rickety  drawing  and  harmonious  arrange 
ments  in  mud. 

For  in  Duane's  work,  from  somewhere  deep  within, 
there  radiated  outward  something  of  that  internal  glow 
which  never  entirely  fades  from  the  canvases  of  the  old 
masters — which  survives  mould  and  age,  the  opacity 
of  varnish,  and  the  well-intentioned  maltreatment  of 
unbaked  curators. 

There  was  no  mystery  about  it;  he  prepared  his 
canvas  with  white-lead,  gave  it  a  long  sun-bath,  mod 
elled  in  bone-black  and  an  earth-red,  gave  it  another 
bath  in  the  sun,  and  then  glazed.  This,  a  choice  of 

217 


permanent  colours,  and  oil  as  a  medium,  was  the  me 
chanical  technique. 

Standing  there,  thoughts  remote,  idly  sorting  and 
re-sorting  his  brushes,  he  heard  the  birds  singing  on 
the  forest's  edge,  heard  the  wind  in  the  pines  blowing, 
with  the  sound  of  flowing  water,  felt  the  warmth  of  the 
sun,  breathed  the  mounting  freshness  from  the  fields. 
Life  was  still  very,  very  young ;  it  had  only  begun  since 
love  had  come,  and  that  was  yesterday. 

And  as  he  stood  there,  happy,  a  trifle  awed  as  he 
began  to  understand  what  life  might  hold  for  him, 
there  came  quick  steps  on  the  stair,  a  knock,  her  voice 
outside  his  door: 

"  Duane !     May  I  come  in  ?  " 

He  sprang  to  the  door ;  she  stepped  inside,  breath 
ing  rapidly,  delicately  flushed  from  her  haste. 

"  I  couldn't  stand  it  any  longer,  so  I  left  Scott  to 
scrape  and  bow  and  pull  his  forelock.  I've  got  to  go 
back  in  a  few  minutes.  Are  you  glad  to  see  me?  " 

He  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  Dearest,  dearest ! "  she  murmured,  looking  at  him 
with  all  her  heart  in  her  brown  eyes. 

So  they  stood  for  a  little  while,  her  mouth  and  body 
acquiescent  to  his  embrace. 

"  Such  a  long,  long  time  since  I  saw  you.  Nearly 
half  an  hour,"  he  said. 

"  Yes."     She  drew  away  a  little : 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  looking  about  her,  over 
his  shoulder,  "  I  have  never  been  here  since  you  took  it 
as  a  studio." 

She  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  picture  on  the  easel, 
freed  herself,  and,  retaining  his  hand  in  both  of  hers, 
gazed  curiously  at  Rosalie's  portrait. 

"  How  perfectly  charming !  "  she  said.  "  But, 
218 


CONFESSION 


Duane,  there's  a  sort  of  exquisite  impudence  about 
what  you've  done !  Did  you  mean  to  gently  and  disre 
spectfully  jeer  at  our  mincing  friends,  Boucher,  Nat 
tier,  et  al.f  " 

"  I  knew  you'd  understand !  "  he  exclaimed,  de 
lighted.  "  Oh,  you  wonderful  little  thing — you  dar 
ling  ! "  He  caught  her  to  him  again,  but  she  twisted 
away  and  tucked  one  arm  under  his : 

"  Don't,  Duane ;  I  want  to  see  these  things.  What 
a  perfectly  dear  study  of  Miller's  kiddies !  Oh,  it  is 
too  lovable,  too  adorable!  You  wouldn't  sell  that — 
would  you  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not ;  it's  yours,  Geraldine." 

After  a  moment  she  looked  up  at  him: 

"  Ours  ?  "  she  asked ;  but  the  smile  faded  once  more 
from  eyes  and  lips ;  she  suffered  him  to  lead  her  from 
canvas  to  canvas,  approved  them  or  remained  silent,  and 
presently  turned  and  glanced  toward  the  small  iron 
bed.  Manner  and  gaze  had  become  distrait. 

"  You  think  this  will  be  comfortable,  Duane  ?  "  she 
inquired  listlessly. 

"  Perfectly,"  he  said. 

She  disengaged  her  hand  from  his,  walked  over  to 
the  lounge,  turned,  and  signed  for  him  to  seat  himself. 
Then  she  dropped  to  her  knees  and  settled  down  on 
the  rug  at  his  feet,  laying  her  soft  cheek  against  his 
arm. 

"  I  have  some  things  to  tell  you,"  she  said  in  a  low 
voice. 

"  Very  serious  things  ?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"  Very." 

"  All  right ;  I  am  listening." 

"  Very  serious  things,"  she  repeated,  gazing 
through  the  window,  where  green  tree-tops  swayed  in 

219 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


the  breezy  sunlight;  and  she  pressed  her  cheek  closer 
to  his  arm. 

"  I  have  not  been  very — good,"  she  said. 

He  looked  at  her,  suppressed  the  smile  that 
twitched  at  his  mouth,  and  waited. 

"  I  wish  I  could  give  myself  to  you  as  clean  and 
sweet  and  untainted  as — as  you  deserve.  ...  I  can't; 
and  before  we  go  any  further  I  must  tell  you " 

"  Why,  you  blessed  child,"  he  exclaimed,  half 
laughing,  half  serious.  "  You  are  not  going  to  con 
fess  to  me,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Duane,  I've  got  to  tell  you  everything.  I  couldn't 
rest  unless  I  was  perfectly  honest  with  you." 

"  But,  dear,"  he  said,  a  trifle  dismayed,  "  such  con 
fidences  are  not  necessary.  Nor  am  I  fit  to  hear  your 
list  of  innocent  transgressions " 

"  Oh,  they  are  not  very  innocent.  Let  me  tell  you ; 
let  me  cleanse  myself  as  much  as  I  can.  I  don't  want 
to  have  any  secrets  from  you,  Duane.  I  want  to  go  to 
you  as  guiltless  as  confession  can  make  me.  I  want  to 
begin  clean.  Let  me  tell  you.  Couldn't  you  let  me  tell 
you,  Duane  ?  " 

"  And  I,  dear?  Do — do  you  expect  me  to  tell  you? 
Do  you  expect  me  to  do  as  you  do  ?  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  surprised;  she  had  expected 
it.  Something  in  his  face  warned  her  of  her  own  igno 
rance. 

"  I  don't  know  very  much  about  men,  Duane.  Are 
there  things  you  cannot  say  to  me  ?  " 

"  One  or  two,  dear." 

"  Do  you  mean  until  after  we  are  married  ?  " 

"  Not  even  then.     There  is  no  use  in  your  know- 


ing." 


She  had  never  considered  that,  either. 
220 


CONFESSION 


"  But  ought  I  to  know,  Duane?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  miserably,  "  you  ought  not." 

She  sat  upright  for  a  few  seconds  longer,  gazing 
thoughtfully  at  space,  then  pressed  her  pale  face 
against  his  knee  again  in  silent  faith  and  confidence. 

"  Anyway,  I  know  you  will  be  fair  to  me  in  your 
own  way,"  she  said.  "  There  is  only  one  way  that  I 
know  how  to  be  fair  to  you.  Listen." 

And  in  a  shamed  voice  she  forced  herself  to  recite  her 
list  of  sins;  repeating  them  as  she  had  confessed  them 
to  Kathleen.  She  told  him  everything;  her  silly  and 
common  imprudence  with  Dysart,  which,  she  believed, 
had  bordered  the  danger  mark;  her  ignoble  descent  to 
what  she  had  always  held  aloof  from,  meaning  demorali 
sation  in  regard  to  betting  and  gambling  and  foolish 
language;  and  last,  but  most  shameful,  her  secret  and 
perilous  temporising  with  a  habit  which  already  was 
making  self-denial  very  difficult  for  her.  She  did  not 
spare  herself;  she  told  him  everything,  searching  the 
secret  recesses  of  her  heart  for  some  small  sin  in  hiding, 
some  fault,  perhaps,  overlooked  or  forgotten.  All  that 
she  held  unworthy  in  her  she  told  this  man ;  and  the 
man,  being  an  average  man,  listened,  head  bowed  over 
her  fragrant  hair,  adoring  her,  wretched  in  heart  and 
soul  with  the  heavy  knowledge  of  all  he  dare  not  tell  or 
forget  or  cleanse  from  him,  kneeling  repentant,  in  the 
sanctuary  of  her  love  and  confidence. 

She  told  him  everything — sins  of  omission,  childish 
depravities,  made  real  only  by  the  decalogue.  Of  in 
dolence,  selfishness,  unkindness,  she  accused  herself; 
strove  to  count  the  times  when  she  had  yielded  to 
temptation. 

He  was  reading  the  first  human  heart  he  had  ever 
known — a  heart  still  strangely  untainted,  amid  a 

221 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


society  where  innocence  was  the  exception,  doubtful  wis 
dom  the  rule,  and  where  curiosity  was  seldom  left  very 
long  in  doubt. 

His  hands  fell  over  hers  as  her  voice  ceased,  but  he 
did  not  speak. 

She  waited  a  little  while,  then,  with  a  slight  nestling 
movement,  turned  and  hid  her  face  on  his  knees. 

"  With  God's  help,"  she  whispered,  "  I  will  subdue 
what  threatens  me.  But  I  am  afraid  of  it !  Oh,  Duane, 
I  am  afraid." 

He  managed  to  steady  his  voice. 

"  What  is  it,  darling,  that  seems  to  tempt  you," 
he  asked ;  "  is  it  the  taste — the  effect  ?  " 

"The — effect.  If  I  could  only  forget  it — but  I 
can't  help  thinking  about  it — I  suppose  just  because 
it's  forbidden — For  days,  sometimes,  there  is  not  the 
slightest  desire ;  then  something  stirs  it  up  in  me,  begins 
to  annoy  me ;  or  the  desire  comes  sometimes  when  I  am 
excited  or  very  happy,  or  very  miserable.  There  seems 
to  be  some  degraded  instinct  in  me  that  seeks  for  it 
whenever  my  emotions  are  aroused.  ...  I  must  be 
honest  with  you;  I — I  feel  that  way  now — because,  I 
suppose,  I  am  a  little  excited." 

He  raised  her  and  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"  But  you  won't,  will  you  ?  Simply  tell  me  that  you 
won't." 

She  looked  at  him,  appalled  by  her  own  hesitation. 
Was  it  possible,  after  the  words  she  had  just  uttered, 
the  exaltation  of  confession  still  thrilling  her,  that  she 
could  hesitate?  Was  it  morbid  over-conscientiousness 
in  the  hcrror  of  a  broken  promise  to  him  that  struck 
her  silent? 

"  Say  it,  Geraldine." 

"  Oh,  Duane !  I've  said  it  so  often  to  Katkleen  and 
222 


CONFESSION 


myself!  Let  me  promise  myself  again — and  keep  my 
word.  Let  me  try  that  way,  dear,  before  I — I  promise 
you?" 

There  was  a  feverish  colour  in  her  face;  she  spoke 
rapidly,  like  one  who  temporises,  trying  to  convince 
others  and  over-ride  the  inward  voice ;  her  slender  hands 
were  restless  on  his  shoulders,  her  eyes  lowered,  avoid 
ing  his. 

"  Perhaps  if  you  and  Kathleen,  and  I,  myself,  were 
not  so  afraid — perhaps  if  I  were  not  forbidden — if  I 
had  your  confidence  and  my  own  that  I  would  not  abuse 
my  liberty,  it  might  be  easier  to  refrain.  Shall  we  try 
it  that  way,  Duane  ?  " 

"Do  you  think  it  best?" 

"  I  think — I  might  try  that  way.  Dear,  I  have  so 
much  to  sustain  me  now — so  much  more  at  stake !  Be 
cause  there  is  the  dread  of  losing  you — for,  Duane,  un 
til  I  am  mistress  of  myself,  I  will  never,  never  marry 
you — and  do  you  suppose  I  am  going  to  risk  our  hap 
piness  ?  Only  leave  me  free,  dear ;  don't  attempt  to  wall 
me  in  at  first,  and  I  will  surely  find  my  way." 

She  sprang  up,  trying  to  smile,  hesitated,  then 
slowly  came  back  to  where  he  was  standing  and  put  her 
arms  around  his  neck. 

"  Good-bye  until  luncheon,"  she  said.  "  I  must  go 
back  to  my  neglected  guests — I  am  going  to  run  all 
the  way  as  fast  as  my  legs  can  carry  me !  Kathleen  will 
be  dreadfully  mortified.  Do  you  love  me?  .  .  .  Even 
after  my  horrid  confessions?  .  .  .  Oh,  you  darling! 
.  .  .  Now  that  you  know  the  very  worst,  I  begin  to 
feel  as  clean  and  fresh  as  though  I  had  just  stepped 
from  the  bath.  .  .  .  And  I  will  try  to  be  what  you 
would  have  me,  dear.  .  .  .  Because  I  am  quite  crazy 
about  you — oh,  completely  mad !  " 
10  223 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  bent  impulsively  and  kissed  his  hands,  freed  her 
self  with  a  breathless  laugh,  and  turned  and  fled. 

For  a  long  time  her  lover  stood  there,  motionless, 
downcast,  clenched  fists  in  his  pockets,  face  to  face  with 
the  past.  And  that  which  lay  behind  him  was  that 
which  lies  behind  what  is  commonly  known  to  the  world 
as  the  average  man. 


CHAPTER    X 

DUSK 

THE  Masked  Dance  was  to  begin  at  ten  that  even 
ing;  for  that  reason  dinner  had  been  served  early  at 
scores  of  small  tables  on  the  terrace,  a  hilarious  and 
topsy-turvy,  but  somewhat  rapid  affair,  because  every 
body  required  time  for  dressing,  and  already  through 
out  the  house  maids  and  valets  were  scurrying  around, 
unpacking  masks  and  wigs  and  dainty  costumes  for  the 
adorning  of  the  guests  at  Roya-Neh. 

Toward  nine  o'clock  the  bustle  and  confusion  be 
came  distracting;  corridors  were  haunted  by  graceful 
flitting  figures  in  various  stages  of  deshabille,  in  quest 
of  paraphernalia  feminine  and  maids  to  adjust  the 
same.  A  continual  chatter  filled  the  halls,  punctuated 
by  smothered  laughter  and  subdued  but  insistent  ap 
peals  for  aid  in  the  devious  complications  of  intimate 
attire. 

On  the  men's  side  of  the  house  there  was  less  hub 
bub  and  some  quiet  swearing;  much  splashing  in  tubs, 
much  cigarette  smoke.  Men  entered  each  other's  rooms, 
half-clad  in  satin  breeches,  silk  stockings,  and  ruffled 
shirts,  asking  a  helping  hand  in  tying  queue  ribbons 
or  adjusting  stocks,  and  lingered  to  smoke  and  jest  and 
gossip,  and  jeer  at  one  another's  finery,  or  to  listen  to 
the  town  news  from  those  week-enders  recently  arrived 
from  the  city. 

225 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


The  talk  was  money,  summer  shows,  and  dub  gos 
sip,  but  financial  rumours  ruled. 

Young  Ellis,  in  pale  blue  silk  and  wig,  perched  airily, 
on  a  table,  became  gloomily  prophetic  concerning  the 
steady  retirement  of  capital  from  philanthropic  enter 
prises  hatched  in  Wall  Street;  Peter  Tappan  saw  in 
the  endlessly  sagging  market  dire  disaster  for  the  fu 
ture  digestions  of  wealthy  owners  of  undistributed 
securities. 

"  Marble  columns  and  gold  ceilings  don't  make  a 
trust  company,"  he  sneered.  "  There  are  a  few  billion 
aire  gamblers  from  the  West  who  seem  to  think  Wall 
Street  is  Coney  Island.  There'll  be  a  shindy,  don't 
make  any  mistake ;  we're  going  to  have  one  hell  of  a 
time;  but  when  it's  over  the  corpses  will  all  be  shipped 
— ahem ! — west." 

Several  men  laughed  uneasily ;  one  or  two  old  line 
trust  companies  were  mentioned;  then  somebody  spoke 
of  the  Minnisink,  lately  taken  over  by  the  Algonquin. 

Duane  lighted  a  cigarette  and,  watching  the  match 
still  burning,  said: 

"  Dysart  is  a  director.  You  can't  ask  for  any  more 
conservative  citizen  than  Dysart,  can  you?  " 

Several  men  looked  around  for  Dysart,  but  he  had 
stepped  out  of  the  room. 

Ellis  said,  after  a  silence: 

"  That  gambling  outfit  from  the  West  has  be 
devilled  one  or  two  good  citizens  in  Gotham  town." 

Dr.  Bailey  shrugged  his  big,  fat  shoulders. 

"  It's  no  secret,  I  suppose,  that  the  Minnisink  crowd 
is  being  talked  about,"  he  grunted. 

Ellis  said  in  a  low  but  perfectly  distinct  voice : 

"  Neither  is  it  any  secret  that  Jack  Dysart  has  been 
hit  hard  in  National  Ice." 

226 


DUSK 

Peter  Tappan  slipped  from  his  seat  on  the  table 
and  threw  away  his  cigarette: 

"  One  thing  is  sure  as  soubrettes,"  he  observed ; 
"  the  Clearing  House  means  to  get  rid  of  certain  false 
prophets.  The  game  law  is  off  prophets — in  the  fall. 
There'll  be  some  good  gunning — under  the  laws  of  New 
Jersey." 

"  I  hope  they'll  be  careful  not  to  injure  any  marble 
columns  or  ruin  the  gold-leaf  on  the  ceilings,"  sneered 
Ellis.  "  Come  on,  some  of  you  fellows,  and  fix  the 
buckle  in  this  cursed  stock  of  mine." 

"  I  thought  fixing  stocks  was  rather  in  your  own 
line,"  said  Duane  to  the  foxy-visaged  and  celebrated 
manipulator,  who  joined  very  heartily  in  the  general 
and  unscrupulous  laugh. 

A  moment  later,  Dysart,  who  had  heard  every  word 
from  the  doorway,  walked  silently  back  to  his  own  room 
and  sat  down,  resting  his  temples  between  his  closed 
fists. 

The  well-cut  head  was  already  silvery  gray  at  the 
temples ;  one  month  had  done  it.  When  animated,  his 
features  still  appeared  firm  and  of  good  colour;  re 
laxed,  they  were  loose  and  pallid,  and  around  the  mouth 
fine  lines  appeared.  Often  a  man's  hands  indicate  his 
age,  and  his  betrayed  him,  giving  the  lie  to  his  lithe, 
straight,  graceful  figure.  The  man  had  aged  amaz 
ingly  in  a  month  or  two. 

Matters  were  not  going  very  well  with  him.  For 
one  thing,  the  Half-Moon  Trust  Company  had  finally 
terminated  all  dealings  with  the  gorgeous  marble-pil 
lared  temple  of  high  finance  of  which  he  was  a  director. 
For  another,  he  had  met  the  men  of  the  West,  and  for 
them  he  had  done  things  which  he  did  not  always  care  to 
think  about.  For  another,  money  was  becoming  dis- 

227 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


turbingly  scarce,  and  the  time  was  already  past  for 
selling  securities. 

During  the  last  year  he  had  been  vaguely  aware 
of  some  occult  hostility  to  himself  and  his  enterprises — 
not  the  normal  hostility  of  business  aggression — but 
something  indefinable — merely  negative  at  first,  then 
more  disturbing,  sinister,  foreboding;  something  in  the 
very  air  to  which  he  was  growing  more  sensitive  every 
day. 

By  all  laws  of  finance,  by  all  signs  and  omens,  a 
serious  reaction  from  the  saturnalia  of  the  last  few 
years  was  already  over-due.  He  had  felt  it,  without 
alarm  at  first,  for  the  men  of  the  West  laughed  him  to 
scorn  and  refused  to  shorten  sail.  They  still  refused. 
Perhaps  they  could  not.  One  thing  was  certain:  he 
could  scarcely  manage  to  take  in  a  single  reef  on  his 
own  account.  He  was  beginning  to  realise  that  the  men 
with  whom  rumour  was  busy  were  men  marked  down  by 
their  letters;  and  they  either  would  not  or  could  not 
aid  him  in  shortening  sail. 

For  a  month,  now,  under  his  bland  and  graceful 
learning  among  the  intimates  of  his  set,  Dysart  had 
been  slowly  but  steadily  going  to  pieces.  At  such  mo 
ments  as  this  it  showed  on  the  surface.  It  showed  now 
in  his  loose  jaw  and  flaccid  cheeks;  in  the  stare  of  the 
quenched  eyes. 

He  was  going  to  pieces,  and  he  was  aware  of  it. 
For  one  thing,  he  recognised  the  physical  change 
setting  in;  for  another,  his  cool,  selfish,  self-centred 
equanimity  was  being  broken  down ;  the  rigorous  bodily 
regime  from  which  he  had  never  heretofore  swerved 
and  which  alone  enabled  him  to  perform  the  exacting 
social  duties  expected  of  him,  he  had  recently  neg 
lected.  He  felt  the  impending  bodily  demoralisation, 

228 


DUSK 

the  threatened  mental  disintegration ;  he  suspected  its 
symptoms  in  a  new  nervous  irritability,  in  lapses  of  self- 
command,  in  unaccountable  excesses  utterly  foreign  to 
his  habitual  self-control. 

Dissolute  heretofore  only  in  the  negative  form, 
whatever  it  was  that  impended  threatening  him,  seemed 
also  to  be  driving  him  into  an  utter  and  monstrous  lack 
of  caution,  and — God  alone  knew  how — he  had  at  last 
done  the  one  thing  that  he  never  dreamed  of  doing. 
And  the  knowledge  of  it,  and  the  fear  of  it,  bit  deeper 
into  his  shallow  soul  every  hour  of  the  day  and 
night.  And  over  all,  vague,  indefinite,  hung  some 
thing  that  menaced  all  that  he  cared  for  most  on 
earth,  held  most  sacred — his  social  position  in  the  Bor 
ough  of  Manhattan  and  his  father's  pride  in  him 
and  it. 

After  a  while  he  stood  up  in  his  pale  blue  silken 
costume  of  that  mincing,  smirking  century  which  valued 
a  straight  back  and  a  well-turned  leg,  and  very  slowly, 
as  though  tired,  he  walked  to  the  door  separating  his 
wife's  dressing-room  from  his  own. 

"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  he  asked. 

A  maid  opened  the  door,  saying  that  Mrs.  Dysart 
had  gone  to  Miss  Quest's  room  to  have  her  hair  pow 
dered.  He  seated  himself ;  the  maid  retired. 

For  a  while  he  sat  there,  absently  playing  with  his 
gilt-hilted  sword,  sombre-eyed,  preoccupied,  listening 
to  the  distant  joyous  tumult  in  the  house,  until  quick, 
light  steps  and  a  breezy  flurry  of  satin  at  the  door  an 
nounced  his  wife's  return. 

"Oh,"  she  said  coolly;  "you?" 

That  was  her  greeting;  his  was  a  briefer  nod. 

She  went  to  her  mirror  and  studied  her  face,  trying 
229 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


a  patch  here,  a  hint  of  vermilion  there,  touching  up 
brow  and  lashes  and  the  sweet,  curling  corners  of  her 
mouth. 

"  Well  ? "  she  inquired,  over  her  shoulder,  in 
solently. 

He  got  up  out  of  the  chair,  shut  the  door,  and  re 
turned  to  his  seat  again. 

"  Have  you  made  up  your  mind  about  the  D  and  P 
securities  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  told  you  I'd  let  you  know  when  I  came  to  any 
conclusion,"  she  replied  drily. 

"  Yes,  I  know  what  you  said,  Rosalie.  But  the  time 
is  shortening.  I've  got  to  meet  certain  awkward  obliga 
tions " 

"  So  you  intimated  before." 

He  nodded  and  went  on  amiably :  "  All  I  ask  of  you 
is  to  deposit  those  securities  with  us  for  a  few  months. 
They  are  as  safe  with  us  as  they  are  with  the  Half- 
Moon.  Do  you  think  I'd  let  you  do  it  if  I  were  not 
certain  ?  " 

She  turned  and  scrutinised  him  insultingly: 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said,  "  how  many  kinds  of 
treachery  you  are  capable  of." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  What  I  say.  Frankly,  I  don't  know  what  you  are 
capable  of  doing  with  my  money.  If  I  can  judge  by 
what  you've  done  with  my  married  life,  I  scarcely  feel 
inclined  to  confide  in  you  financially." 

"  There  is  no  use  in  going  over  that  again,"  he 
said  patiently.  "  We  differ  little  from  ordinary  peo 
ple,  I  fancy.  I  think  our  house  is  as  united  as  the 
usual  New  York  domicile.  The  main  thing  is  to  keep  it 
so.  And  in  a  time  of  some  slight  apprehension  and 
financial  uneasiness — perhaps  even  of  possible  future 

230 


DUSK 

stress — you  and  I,  for  our  own  sakes,  should  stand 
firmly  together  to  weather  any  possible  gale." 

"  I  think  I  am  able  to  weather  whatever  I  am  re 
sponsible  for,"  she  said.  "  If  you  do  the  same,  we  caa 
get  on  as  well  as  we  ever  have." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  understand,"  he  persisted, 
forcing  a  patient  smile.  "  All  business  in  the  world  is 
conducted  upon  borrowed  capital.  I  merely " 

"  Do  you  .need  more  capital? "  she  inquired,  so 
bluntly  that  he  winced. 

"  Yes,  for  a  few  months.  I  may  require  a  little  ad 
ditional  collateral " 

"  Why  don't  you  borrow  it,  then  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  necessity  if  you  will  temporarily  trans 
fer " 

"  Can  you  borrow  it  ?  Or  is  the  ice  in  your  trust 
company  too  rotten  to  stand  the  strain?  " 

He  flushed  darkly  and  the  temper  began  to  escape  in 
his  voice: 

"  Has  anybody  hinted  that  I  couldn't?  Have  you 
been  discussing  my  personal  business  affairs  with  any 
of  the  pups  whom  you  drag  about  at  your  heels?  No 
matter  what  your  personal  attitude  toward  me  may  be, 
only  a  fool  would  undermine  the  very  house  that " 

"  I  don't  believe  you  understand,  Jack,"  she  said 
quietly ;  "  I  care  absolutely  nothing  about  your  house." 

"  Well,  you  care  about  your  own  social  status,  I 
suppose ! "  he  retorted  sharply. 

"  Not  very  much." 

"  That's  an  imbecile  thing  to  say ! " 

"  Is  it  ?  "  She  turned  to  the  mirror  and  touched  her 
powdered  hair  lightly  with  both  hands,  and  continued 
speaking  with  her  back  turned  toward  him: 

"  I  married  you  for  love.  Remember  that.  T4\ere 
231 


was  even  something  of  it  alive  in  the  roots,  I  think, 
until  within  a  few  days — in  spite  of  what  you  are,  what 
you  have  done  to  me.  Now  the  thing  is  dead.  I  can 
tell  you  when  it  died,  if  you  like." 

And  as  he  said  nothing: 

"  It  died  when  I  came  in  late  one  evening,  and, 
passing  my  corridor  and  a  certain  locked  door,  I  heard 
a  young  girl  sobbing.  Then  it  died." 

She  turned  on  him,  contemptuously  indifferent,  and 
surveyed  him  at  her  leisure : 

"Your  conduct  to  me  has  been  such  as  to  deliber 
ately  incite  me  to  evil.  Your  attitude  has  been  a  con 
stant  occult  force,  driving  me  toward  it.  By  the  life 
you  have  led,  and  compelled  me  to  lead,  you  have  vir 
tually  set  a  premium  upon  my  infidelity.  What  you 
may  have  done,  I  don't  know;  what  you  have  done,  even 
recently,  I  am  not  sure  of.  But  I  know  this :  you  took 
my  life  and  made  a  parody  of  it.  I  never  lived ;  I  have 
been  tempted  to.  If  the  opportunity  comes,  I  will." 

Dysart  rose,  his  face  red  and  distorted : 

"  I  thought  young  Mallett  had  taught  you  to  live 
pretty  rapidly !  "  he  said. 

"  No,"  she  replied,  "  you  only  thought  other  people 
thought  so.  That  is  why  you  resented  it.  Your  jeal 
ousy  is  of  thai  sort — you  don't  care  what  I  am,  but  you 
do  care  what  the  world  thinks  I  am.  And  that  is  all 
there  ever  was  to  you — all  there  ever  will  be:  desperate 
devotion  to  your  wretched  little  social  status,  which 
includes  sufficient  money  and  a  chaste  wife  to  make  it 
secure." 

She  laughed ;  fastened  a  gardenia  in  her  hair : 
-       "  I  don't  know  about  your  money,  and  I  don't  care. 
As  for  your  wife,  she  will  remain  chaste  as  long  as  it 
suits  her,  and  not  one  fraction  of  a  second  longer." 

232 


DUSK 

"  Are  you  crazy  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Why,  it  does  seem  crazy  to  you,  I  suppose — that 
a  woman  should  have  no  regard  for  the  sacredness  of 
your  social  status.  I  have  no  regard  for  it.  As  for 
your  honour  " — she  laughed  unpleasantly — "  I've  never 
had  it  to  guard,  Jack.  And  I'll  be  responsible  for  my 
own,  and  the  tarnishing  of  it.  I  think  that  is  all  I 
have  to  say." 

She  walked  leisurely  toward  the  door,  passing  him 
with  a  civil  nod  of  dismissal,  and  left  him  standing 
there  in  his  flower-embroidered  court-dress,  the  electric 
light  shining  full  on  the  thin  gray  hair  at  his  temples. 

In  the  corridor  she  met  Nai'da,  charming  in  her 
blossom-embroidered  panniers ;  and  she  took  both  her 
hands  and  kissed  her,  saying: 

"  Perhaps  you  won't  care  to  have  me  caress  you 
some  day,  so  I'll  take  this  opportunity,  dear.  Where 
is  your  brother  ?  " 

"  Duane  is  dressing,"  she  said.  "  What  did  you 
mean  by  my  not  wishing  to  kiss  you  some  day  ?  " 

"  Nothing,  silly."  And  she  passed  on,  turned  to 
the  right,  and  met  Sylvia  Quest,  looking  very  frail  and 
delicate  in  her  bath-robe  and  powdered  hair.  The  girl 
passed  her  with  the  same  timid,  almost  embarrassed  lit 
tle  inclination  with  which  she  now  invariably  greeted 
her,  and  Rosalie  turned  and  caught  her,  turning 
her  around  with  a  laugh.  "  What  is  the  matter, 
dear?  " 

"  M-matter  ?  "  stammered  Sylvia,  trembling  under 
the  reaction. 

"  Yes.  You  are  not  very  friendly,  and  I've  always 
liked  you.  Have  I  offended  you,  Sylvia?  " 

She  was  looking  smilingly  straight  into  the  blue 
eyes. 

233 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  No — oh,  no !  "  said  the  girl  hastily.  "  How  can 
you  think  that,  Mrs.  Dysart  ?  " 

"  Then  I  don't  think  it,"  replied  Rosalie,  laughing. 
"  You  are  a  trifle  pale,  dear.  Touch  up  your  lips  a  bit. 
It's  very  Louis  XVI.  See  mine?  .  .  .  Will  you  kiss 
me,  Sylvia?  " 

Again  a  strange  look  flickered  in  the  girl's  eyes ; 
Rosalie  kissed  her  gently ;  she  had  turned  very  white. 

"  What  is  your  costume?  "  asked  Mrs.  Dysart. 

"  Flame  colour  and  gold." 

"  Hell's  own  combination,  dear,"  laughed  Rosalie. 
"  You  will  make  an  exquisite  little  demon  shepherdess." 

And  she  went  on,  smiling  back  at  the  girl  in  friendly 
fashion,  then  turned  and  lightly  descended  the  stair 
way,  snapping  on  her  loup-mask  before  the  jolly  crowd 
below  could  identify  her. 

Masked  figures  here  and  there  detained  her,  ad 
dressing  her  in  disguised  voices,  but  she  eluded  them, 
slipped  through  the  throngs  on  terrace  and  lawn,  ran 
down  the  western  slope  and  entered  the  rose-garden. 
A  man  in  mask  and  violet-gray  court  costume  rose  from 
a  marble  seat  under  the  pergola  and  advanced  toward 
her,  the  palm  of  his  left  hand  carelessly  balanced  on  his 
gilded  hilt. 

"  So  you  did  get  my  note,  Duane  ?  "  she  said,  laying 
her  pretty  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  I  certainly  did.  What  can  I  do  for  you,  Rosa 
lie?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Shall  we  sit  here  a  moment  ?  " 

He  laughed,  but  continued  standing  after  she  was 
seated. 

The  air  was  heavy  with  the  scent  of  rockets  and 
phlox  and  ragged  pinks  and  candy-tuft.  Through  the 
sweet-scented  dusky  silence  some  small  and  very  wake- 

234 


DUSK 

ful  bird  was  trilling.  Great  misty-winged  moths  came 
whirring  and  hovering  among  the  blossoms,  pale  blurs 
in  the  darkness,  and  everywhere  the  drifting  lamps  of 
fireflies  lighted  and  died  out  against  the  foliage. 

The  woman  beside  him  sat  with  masked  head  bent 
and  slightly  turned  from  him;  her  restless  hands  wor 
ried  her  fan ;  her  satin-shod  feet  were  crossed  and  re- 
crossed. 

"  What  is  the  matter?  "  he  asked. 

"  Life.     It's  all  so  very  wrong." 

"  Oh,"  he  said,  smiling,  "  so  it's  life  that  is  amiss, 
not  we ! " 

"  I  suppose  we  are.  ...  I  suppose  I  am.  But, 
Duane  " — she  turned  and  looked  at  him — "  I  haven't 
had  much  of  a  chance  yet — to  go  very  right  or  very 
wrong.* 

"  You've  had  chances  enough  for  the  latter,"  he 
said  with  an  unpleasant  laugh.  "  In  this  sweet  coterie 
we  inhabit,  there's  always  that  chance." 

"  There  are  good  women  in  it,  good  wives.  Your 
sister  is  in  it." 

"  Yes,  and  I  mean  to  take  her  out,"  said  Duane 
grimly.  "  Do  you  think  I  want  Naida  to  marry  some 
money-fattened  pup  in  this  set?  " 

"  Where  can  you  take  her  ?  " 

"  Where  I'm  going  in  future  myself — among  peo 
ple  whose  brains  are  not  as  obsolete  as  my  appendix ; 
where  there  still  exist  standards  and  old-fashioned 
things  like  principles  and  religion,  and  a  healthy  terror 
of  the  Decalogue !  " 

"  Is  anybody  really  still  afraid  of  the  Decalogue?  " 
she  asked  curiously. 

"  Even  we  are,  but  some  of  us  are  more  afraid  of 
ennui.  Fire  and  fear  are  the  greatest  purifiers  in  the 

235 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


world;  it's  fear  of  some  sort  or  other,  and  only  fear, 
that  keeps  the  world  as  decent  as  it  is." 

"  I'm  not  afraid,"  she  said,  playing  with  her  fan. 
"  I'm  only  afraid  of  dying  before  I  have  lived  at  all." 

"  What  do  you  call  living  ?  " 

"  Being  loved,"  she  said,  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"  You  poor  little  thing ! "  he  said,  only  partly  in 
earnest. 

"  Yes,  I'm  sorry  for  the  girl  I  was.  ...  I  was 
rather  a  nice  girl,  Duane.  You  remember  me  before  I 
married." 

"  Yes,  I  do.     You  were  a  corker.     You  are  still." 

She  nodded :  "  Yes,  outwardly.  Within  is — noth 
ing.  I  am  very,  very  old ;  very  tired." 

He  said  no  more.  She  sat  listlessly  watching  the 
dusk-moths  hovering  among  the  pinks.  Far  away  in 
the  darkness  rockets  were  rising,  spraying  the  sky  with 
fire;  faint  strains  of  music  came  from  the  forest. 

"  Their  Fete  Galante  has  begun,"  she  said.  "  Am 
I  detaining  you  too  long,  Duane?  " 

"No." 

She  smiled :  "  It  is  rather  amusing,"  she  observed, 
•"  my  coming  to  you  for  my  morals — to  you,  Duane, 
who  were  once  supposed  to  possess  so  few." 

"  Never  mind  what  I  possess,"  he  said,  irritated. 
"  What  sort  of  advice  do  you  expect  ?  " 

"  Why,  moral  advice,  of  course." 

"  Oh !    Are  you  on  the  verge  of  demoralisation  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Am  I  ?  .   .   .  There  is  a  man " 

"  Of  course,"  he  said,  coming  as  near  a  sneer  as  he 
was  capable.  "  I  know  what  you've  done.  You've 
nearly  twisted  poor  Grandcourt's  head  off  his  honest 
neck.  If  you  want  to  know  what  I  think  of  it,  it's  an 
abominable  thing  to  do.  Why,  anybody  can  see  that 

236 


DUSK 

the  man  is  in  love  with  you,  and  desperately  unhappy 
already.  I  told  you  to  let  him  alone.  You  promised, 
too." 

He  spoke  rapidly,  sharply;  she  bent  her  fair  head 
in  silence  until  he  ended. 

"  May  I  defend  myself?  "  she  asked. 

"  Of  course." 

"  Then — I  did  not  mean  to  make  him  care  for  me." 

"  You  all  say  that." 

"  Yes ;  we  are  not  always  as  innocent  as  I  happen  to 
be  this  time.  I  really  did  not  try,  did  not  think,  that 
he  was  taking  a  little  unaccustomed  kindness  on  my 
part  so  seriously.  ...  I  overdid  it;  I'd  been  beastly 
to  him — most  women  are  rude  to  Delancy  Grandcourt, 
somehow  or  other.  I  always  was.  And  one  day — that 
day  in  the  forest — somehow  something  he  said  opened 
my  eyes — hurt  me.  .  .  .  And  women  are  fools  to  be 
lieve  him  one.  Why,  Duane,  he's  every  inch  a  man — 
high-minded,  sensitive,  proud,  generous,  forbearing." 

Duane  turned  and  stared  at  her;  and  to  her  annoy 
ance  the  blood  mounted  to  her  cheeks,  but  she  went  on : 

"  Of  course  he  has  affected  me.  I  don't  know  how 
it  might  have  been  with  me  if  I  were  not  so — so  utterly 
starved." 

"  You  mean  to  say  you  are  beginning  to  care  for 
Delancy  Grandcourt?  " 

"  Care  ?     Yes — in  a  perfectly  nice  way " 

"  And  otherwise  ?  " 

"  I — don't  know.  I  am  honest  with  you,  Duane ;  I 
don't  know.  A — a  little  devotion  of  that  kind  " — she 
tried  to  laugh — "  goes  to  my  head,  perhaps.  I've  been 
so  long  without  it.  ...  I  don't  know.  And  I  came 
here  to  tell  you.  I  came  here  to  ask  you  what  I  ought 
to  do." 

237 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  Good  Lord !  "  said  Duane,  "  do  you  already  care 
enough  for  him  to  worry  about  your  effect  on  him  ?  " 

"  I — do  not  wish  him  to  be  unhappy." 

"  Oh.  But  you  are  willing  to  be  unhappy  in  order 
to  save  him  any  uneasiness.  See  here,  Rosalie,  you'd 
better  pull  up  sharp." 

"Had  I?" 

"  Certainly,"  he  said  brutally.  "  Not  many  days 
ago  you  were  adrift.  Don't  cut  your  cable  again." 

A  vivid  colour  mounted  to  her  temples: 

"  That  is  all  over,"  she  said.  "  Have  I  not  come  to 
you  again  in  spite  of  the  folly  that  sent  me  drifting 
to  you  before?  And  can  I  pay  you  a  truer  compliment, 
Duane,  than  to  ask  the  hospitality  of  your  forbearance 
and  the  shelter  of  your  friendship  ?  " 

"  You  are  a  trump,  Rosalie,"  he  said,  after  a  mo 
ment's  scowling.  "  You're  all  right.  ...  I  don't 
know  what  to  say.  ...  If  it's  going  to  give  you  a 
little  happiness  to  care  for  this  man " 

"  But  what  will  it  do  to  him,  Duane  ?  " 

"  It  ought  to  do  him  good  if  such  a  girl  as  you 
gives  him  all  of  herself  that  she  decently  can.  I  don't 
know  whether  I'm  right  or  wrong !  "  he  added  almost 
angrily.  "  Confound  it !  there  seems  no  end  to  con 
jugal  infelicity  around  us  these  days.  I  don't  know 
where  the  line  is — how  close  to  the  danger  mark  an 
unhappy  woman  may  drift  and  do  no  harm  to  anybody. 
!A11  I  know  is  that  I'm  sorry — terribly  sorry  for  you. 
You're  a  corker." 

"  Thanks,"  she  said  with  a  faint  smile.  "  Do  you 
think  Delancy  may  safely  agree  with  you  without  dan 
ger  to  his  peace  of  mind  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?     After  all,  you're  entitled   to   lawful 

happiness.      So  is  he.   ...  Only " 

238 


DUSK 

"Only— what?" 

"  I've  never  seen  it  succeed." 

"  Seen  what  succeed?  " 

"  What  is  popularly  known  as  the  platonic." 

"Oh,  this  isn't  that,"  she  said  naively.  "He's 
rather  in  love  already,  and  I'm  quite  sure  I  could  be 
if  I— I  let  myself." 

Duane  groaned. 

"  Don't  come  to  me  asking  what  to  do,  then,"  he 
said  impatiently,  "  because  I  know  what  you  ought  to 
do  and  I  don't  know  what  I'd  do  under  the  circum 
stances.  You  know  as  well  as  I  do  where  the  danger 
mark  is.  Don't  you  ?  " 

"  I— suspect." 

"  Well,  then " 

"  Oh,  we  haven't  reached  it  yet,"  she  said  innocently. 

Her  honesty  appalled  him,  and  he  got  up  and  began 
to  pace  the  gravel  walk. 

"Do  you  intend  to  cross  it?"  he  asked,  halting 
abruptly. 

"  No,  I  don't.  ...  I  don't  want  to.  ...  Do  you 
think  there  is  any  fear  of  it?  " 

"  My  Lord ! "  he  said  in  despair,  "  you  talk  like  a 
child.  I'm  trying  to  realise  that  you  women — some  of 
you  who  appear  so  primed  with  doubtful,  worldly  wis 
dom — are  practically  as  innocent  as  the  day  you  mar 
ried." 

"  I  don't  know  very  much  about  some  things, 
Duane." 

"  I  notice  that,"  he  said  grimly. 

She  said  very  gravely :  "  This  is  the  first  time  I  have 
ever  come  very  near  caring  for  a  man.  ...  I  mean 
since  I  married."  And  she  rose  and  glanced  toward 
the  forest. 

239 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


They  stood  together  for  a  moment,  listening  to  the 
distant  music,  then,  without  speaking,  turned  and 
walked  toward  the  distant  flare  of  light  which  threw 
great  trees  into  tangled  and  grotesque  silhouette. 

"  Tales  of  the  Geneii,"  she  murmured,  fastening 
her  loup ;  "  Fate  is  the  Sultan.  Pray  God  nobody  cuts 
my  head  off." 

"  You  are  much  too  amusing,"  he  said  as,  side  by 
side,  they  moved  silently  on  through  the  pale  starlight, 
like  errant  phantoms  of  a  vanished  age,  and  no  further 
word  was  said  between  them,  nor  did  they  look  at  each 
other  again  until,  ahead,  the  road  turned  silvery  under 
the  rays  of  the  Lodge  acetylenes,  and  beyond,  the  first 
cluster  of  brilliant  lanterns  gleamed  among  the  trees. 

"  And  here  we  separate,"  she  said.  "  Good-bye," 
holding  out  her  hand.  "  It  is  my  first  rendezvous. 
Wish  me  a  little  happiness,  please." 

"  Happiness  and — good  sense,"  he  said,  smiling. 
He  retained  her  hand  for  a  second,  let  it  go  and,  step 
ping  back,  saluted  her  gaily  as  she  passed  before  him 
into  the  blaze  of  light. 


CHAPTER    XI 

FETE    GALANTE 

THE  forest,  in  every  direction,  was  strung  with 
lighted  lanterns;  tall  torches  burning  edged  the  Gray 
Water,  and  every  flame  rippled  straight  upward  in  the 
still  air. 

Through  the  dark,  mid-summer  woodland  music  of 
violin,  viola,  and  clarionet  rang  out,  and  the  laughter 
and  jolly  uproar  of  the  dancers  swelled  and  ebbed,  with 
now  and  then  sudden  intervals  of  silence  slowly  filled 
by  the  far  noise  of  some  unseen  stream  rushing  west 
ward  under  the  stars. 

Glade,  greensward,  forest,  aisles,  and  the  sylvan 
dancing  floor,  bounded  by  garlanded  and  beribboned 
pillars,  swarmed  with  a  gay  company.  Torchlight 
painted  strange  high  lights  on  silken  masks,  touching 
with  subdued  sparkles  the  eyes  behind  the  slanting  eye- 
slits  ;  half  a  thousand  lanterns  threw  an  orange  radi 
ance  across  the  glade,  bathing  the  whirling  throngs  of 
dancers,  glimmering  on  gilded  braid  and  sword  hilt, 
on  powdered  hair,  on  fresh  young  faces  laughing  be 
hind  their  masks ;  on  white  shoulders  and  jewelled 
throats,  on  fan  and  brooch  and  spur  and  lacquered  heel. 
There  was  a  scent  of  old-time  perfume  in  the  air,  and, 
as  Duane  adjusted  his  mask  and  drew  near,  he  saw  that 
sets  were  already  forming  for  the  minuet. 

He  recognised  Dysart,  glorious  in  silk  and  powder, 
perfectly  in  his  element,  and  doing  his  part  with 

241 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


eighteenth-century  elaboration ;  Kathleen,  tres  grande- 
ciame,  almost  too  exquisitely  real  for  counterfeit ;  De- 
lancy  Grandcourt,  very  red  in  the  face  under  his  mask, 
\vig  slightly  awry,  conscientiously  behaving  as  nearly 
like  a  masked  gentleman  of  the  period  as  he  knew  how ; 
his  sister  Naida,  sweet  and  gracious;  Scott,  masked 
and  also  spectacled,  grotesque  and  preoccupied,  cast 
ing  patient  glances  toward  the  dusky  solitudes  that  he 
much  preferred,  and  from  whence  a  distant  owl  fluted 
at  intervals,  inviting  his  investigations. 

And  there  were  the  Pink  'uns,  too,  easily  identified, 
having  all  sorts  of  a  good  time  with  a  pair  of  maskers 
resembling  Doucette  Landon  and  Peter  Tappan ;  and 
there  in  powder,  paint,  and  patch  capered  the  Beek- 
mans,  Ellises,  and  Montrosses — all  the  clans  of  the 
great  and  near-great  of  the  country-side,  gathering  to 
join  the  eternal  hunt  for  happiness  where  already  the 
clarionets  were  sounding  "  Stole  Away." 

For  the  quarry  in  that  hunt  is  a  spectre ;  sighted,  it 
steals  away;  and  if  one  remains  very,  very  still  and 
listens,  one  may  hear,  far  and  faint,  the  undertone  of 
phantom  horns  mocking  the  field  that  rides  so  gal 
lantly. 

"  Stole  away,"  whispered  Duane  in  Kathleen's  ear, 
as  he  paused  beside  her;  and  she  seemed  to  know  what 
he  meant,  for  she  nodded,  smiling: 

"  You  mean  that  what  we  hunt  is  doomed  to  die 
when  we  ride  it  down?  " 

"  Let  us  be  in  at  the  death,  anyway,"  he  said. 
"  Kathleen,  you're  charming  and  masked  to  perfection. 
It's  only  that  white  skin  of  yours  that  betrays  you;  it 
always  looks  as  though  it  were  fragrant.  Is  that  Ger- 
aldine  surrounded  three  deep — over  there  under  that 
oak-tree  ?  " 

242 


FETE   GALANTE 


"  Yes;  why  are  you  so  late,  Duane?  And  I  haven't 
seen  Rosalie,  either." 

He  did  not  care  to  enlighten  her,  but  stood  laugh 
ing  and  twirling  his  sword-knot  and  looking  across 
the  glittering  throng,  where  a  daintily  masked  young 
girl  stood  defending  herself  with  fan  and  bouquet 
against  the  persistence  of  her  gallants.  Then  he 
shook  out  the  lace  at  his  gilded  cuffs,  dropped  one 
palm  on  his  sword-hilt,  saluted  Kathleen's  finger-tips 
with  graceful  precision,  and  sauntered  toward  Geral- 
dine,  dusting  his  nose  with  his  filmy  handkerchief 
— a  most  convincing  replica  of  the  bland  epoch  he 
impersonated. 

As  for  Geraldine,  she  was  certainly  a  very  lovely 
incarnation  of  that  self-satisfied  and  frivolous  century; 
her  success  had  already  excited  her  a  little ;  men  seemed 
suddenly  to  have  gone  quite  mad  about  her;  and  this 
and  her  own  beauty  were  taking  effect  on  her,  produc 
ing  an  effect  the  more  vivid,  perhaps,  because  it  was  a 
reaction  from  the  perplexities  and  tears  of  yesterday 
and  the  passionate  tension  of  the  morning. 

Within  her  breast  the  sense  of  impending  pleasure 
stirred  and  fluttered  deliciously  with  every  breath  of 
music;  the  confused  happiness  of  being  in  love,  the 
relief  in  relaxation  from  a  sterner  problem,  the  noisy 
carnival  surging,  rioting  around  her,  men  crowding 
about  her,  eager  in  admiration  and  rivalry,  the  knowl 
edge  of  her  own  loveliness — all  these  set  the  warm  blood 
racing  through  every  vein,  and  tinted  lip  and  cheek  with 
a  colour  in  brilliant  contrast  to  the  velvety  masked  eyes 
and  the  snow  of  the  slender  neck. 

Through  the  gay  tumult  which  rang  ceaselessly 
around  her,  where  she  stood,  plying  her  painted  fan, 
her  own  laughter  sounded  at  intervals,  distinct  in  its 

243 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


refreshing  purity,  for  it  had  always  that  crystalline 
quality  under  a  caressing  softness ;  but  Duane,  who  had 
advanced  now  to  the  outer  edge  of  the  circle,  detected 
in  her  voice  no  hint  of  that  thrilling  undertone  which 
he  had  known,  which  he  alone  among  men  had  ever 
awakened.  Her  gaiety  was  careless,  irresponsible, 
childlike  in  its  clarity;  under  her  crescent  mask  the 
smiles  on  her  smooth  young  face  dawned  and  died  out, 
brief  as  sun-spots  flashing  over  snow.  Briefer  intervals 
of  apparent  detachment  from  everything  succeeded 
them ;  a  distrait  survey  of  the  lantern-lit  dancers,  a 
preoccupied  glance  at  the  man  speaking  to  her,  a  lift 
ing  of  the  delicate  eyebrows  in  smiling  preoccupation. 
But  always  behind  the  black  half-mask  her  eyes  wan 
dered  throughout  the  throng  as  though  seeking  some 
thing  hidden;  and  on  her  vivid  lips  the  smile  became 
fixed. 

Whether  or  not  she  had  seen  him,  Duane  could  not 
tell,  but  presently,  as  he  forced  a  path  toward  her,  she 
stirred,  closed  her  fan,  took  a  step  forward,  head  a 
trifle  lowered;  and  right  of  way  was  given  her,  as  she 
moved  slowly  through  the  cluster  of  men,  shaking  her 
head  in  vexation  to  the  whispered  importunities  mur 
mured  in  her  ear,  answering  each  according  to  his  folly 
— this  man  with  a  laugh,  that  with  a  gesture  of  hand 
or  shoulder,  but  never  turning  to  reply,  never  staying 
her  feet  until,  passing  close  to  Duane,  and  not  even 
looking  at  him: 

"Where  on  earth  have  you  been,  Duane?" 

"  How  did  you  know  me?  "  he  said,  laughing ;  "  you 
haven't  even  looked  at  me  yet." 

"  On  peut  voir  sans  regarder,  Monsieur.  Nous 
autres  demoiselles,  nous  voyons  tres  bien,  tres  bien  .  .  . 
et  nous  ne  regardons  jamais." 

244 


— 
•f. 


FETE    GALANTE 


She  had  paused,  still  not  looking  directly  at  him. 
Then  she  lifted  her  head. 

"  Everybody  has  asked  me  to  dance ;  I've  said  yes 
to  everybody,  but  I've  waited  for  you,"  she  said.  "  It 
will  be  that  way  all  my  life,  I  think." 

"  It  has  been  that  way  with  me,  too,"  he  said  gaily. 
"  Why  should  we  wait  any  more  ?  " 

"  Why  are  you  so  late? "  she  asked.  She  had 
missed  Rosalie,  too,  but  did  not  say  so. 

"  I  am  rather  late,"  he  admitted  carelessly ;  "  can 
you  give  me  this  dance  ?  " 

She  stepped  nearer,  turning  her  shoulder  to  the 
anxious  lingerers,  who  involuntarily  stepped  back,  leav 
ing  a  cleared  space  around  them. 

"  Make  me  your  very  best  bow,"  she  whispered, 
"  and  take  me.  I've  promised  a  dozen  men,  but  it 
doesn't  matter." 

He  said  in  a  low  voice,  "  You  darling ! "  and  made 
her  a  very  wonderful  bow,  and  she  dropped  him  a  very 
low,  very  slow,  very  marvellous  courtesy,  and,  rising, 
laid  her  fingers  on  his  embroidered  sleeve.  Then  turn 
ing,  head  held  erect,  and  with  a  certain  sweet  insolence 
in  the  droop  of  her  white  lids,  she  looked  at  the  men 
around  her. 

Gray  said  in  a  low  voice  to  Dysart :  "  That's  as 
much  as  to  admit  that  they're  engaged,  isn't  it?  When 
a  girl  doesn't  give  a  hoot  what  she  does  to  other  men, 
she's  nailed,  isn't  she?  " 

Dysart  did  not  answer ;  Rosalie,  passing  on  Grand- 
court's  arm,  caught  the  words  and  turned  swiftly,  look 
ing  over  her  shoulder  at  Geraldine. 

But  Geraldine  and  Duane  had  already  forgotten 
the  outer  world ;  around  them  the  music  swelled ;  laugh 
ter  and  voice  grew  indistinct,  receding,  blending  in  the 

245 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


vague  tumult  of  violins.  They  gazed  upon  each  other 
with  vast  content. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  said  Duane,  "  I  don't  re 
member  very  well  how  to  dance  a  minuet.  I  only  wanted 
to  be  with  you.  We'll  sit  it  out  if  you're  afraid  I'll 
make  a  holy  show  of  you." 

"  Oh,  dear,"  said  Geraldine  in  pretty  distress, 
"  and  I  let  you  beguile  me  when  I'm  dying  to  do  this 
minuet.  Duane,  you  must  try  to  remember!  Every 
body  will  be  watching  us."  And  as  her  quick  ear 
caught  the  preliminary  bars  of  the  ancient  and  stately 
measure : 

"  It's  the  Menuet  d'Exaudet,"  she  said  hurriedly ; 
"  listen,  I'll  instruct  you  as  we  move ;  I'll  sing  it  under 
my  breath  to  the  air  of  the  violins,"  and,  her  hand  in 
his,  she  took  the  first  slow,  dainty  step  in  the  old-time 
dance,  humming  the  words  as  they  moved  forward  : 

"Gravement 

Noblement 
On  s'avance; 

On  fait  trois  pas  de  cote* 

Deux  battus,  un  jete 
Sans  rompre  la  cadence " 

Then  whispered,  smiling: 

"  You  are  quite  perfect,  Duane ;  keep  your  head 
level,  dear: 

"  Chassez 
Rechassez 
En  mesure! 
Saluez — 
Gravement- 
Noblement 
On  s'avance 
Sans  rompre  la  cadence. 
246 


FETE    GALANTE 


"  Quite  perfect,  my  handsome  cavalier !  Oh,  we  are 
doing  it  most  beautifully  " — with  a  deep,  sweeping  rev 
erence  ;  then  rising,  as  he  lifted  her  finger-tips :  "  You 
are  stealing  the  rest  of  my  heart,"  she  said. 

"  Our  betrothal  dance,"  he  whispered.  "  Shall  it 
be  so,  dear  ?  " 

They  looked  at  each  other  as  though  they  stood 
there  alone ;  the  lovely  old  air  of  the  Menuet  d'Exaudet 
seemed  to  exhale  from  the  tremulous  violins  like  per 
fume  floating  through  the  woods ;  figures  of  masked 
dancers  passed  and  repassed  them  through  the  orange- 
tinted  glow;  there  came  a  vast  rustle  of  silk,  a  breezy 
murmur,  the  scented  wind  from  opening  fans,  the  rat 
tle  of  swords,  and  the  Menuet  d'Exaudet  ended  with  a 
dull  roll  of  kettle-drums. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  had  her  in  his  arms  in  a 
deliciously  wild  waltz,  a  swinging,  irresponsible,  gipsy- 
like  thing  which  set  the  blood  coursing  and  pulses  gal 
loping. 

Every  succeeding  dance  she  gave  to  him.  Now  and 
then  a  tiny  cloud  of  powder-dust  floated  from  her 
hair;  a  ribbon  from  her  shoulder-knot  whipped  his 
face;  her  breath  touched  his  lips;  her  voice,  at  in 
tervals,  thrilled  and  caressed  his  ears,  a  soft,  breath 
less  voice,  which  mounting  exaltation  had  made  unstead 
ily  sweet. 

"  You  know — dear — I'm  dancing  every  dance  with 
you — in  the  teeth  of  decency,  the  face  of  every  conven 
tion,  and  defiance  of  every  law  of  hospitality.  I  be 
long  to  my  guests." 

And  again: 

"  Do  you  know,  Duane,  there's  a  sort  of  a  delicious 
madness  coming  over  me.  I'm  all  trembling  under  my 
skin  with  the  overwhelming  happiness  of  it  all.  I  tell 
17  247 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


you  it's  intoxicating  me  because  I  don't  know  how  to 
endure  it." 

He  caught  fire  at  her  emotion ;  her  palm  was  burn 
ing  in  his,  her  breath  came  irregularly,  lips  and  cheeks 
were  aflame,  as  they  came  to  a  breathless  halt  in  the 
torchlight. 

"  Dear,"  she  faltered,  "  I  simply  must  be  decent  to 
my  guests.  .  .  .  I'm  dying  to  dance  with  you  again, 
but  I  can't  be  so  rude.  .  .  .  Oh,  goodness!  here  they 
come,  hordes  of  them.  I'll  give  them  a  dance  or  two — 
anybody  who  speaks  first,  and  then  you'll  come  and 
find  me,  won't  you?  .  .  .  Isn't  that  enough  to  give 
them — two  or  three  dances?  Isn't  that  doing  my  duty 
as  chatelaine  sufficiently  ?  " 

"  Don't  give  them  any,"  he  said  with  conviction. 
"  They'll  know  we're  engaged  if  you  don't " 

"  Oh,  Duane !  We  are  only — only  provisionally  en 
gaged,"  she  said.  "  I  am  only  on  probation,  dear. 
You  know  it  can't  be  announced  until  I — I'm  fit  to 
marry  you " 

"  What  nonsense !  "  he  interrupted,  almost  savagely. 
"  You're  winning  out ;  and  even  if  you  are  not,  I'll 
marry  you,  anyway,  and  make  you  win ! " 

"  We  have  talked  that  over " 

"  Yes,  and  it  is  settled !  " 

"  No,  Duane " 

"  I  tell  you  it  is !  " 

"  No.  Hush !  Somebody  might  overhear  us. 
Quick,  dear,  here  comes  Bunny  and  Reggie  Wye  and 
Peter  Tappan,  all  mad  as  hatters.  I've  behaved  abom 
inably  to  them !  Will  you  find  me  after  the  third  dance  ? 
Very  well ;  tell  me  you  love  me  then — whisper  it,  quick ! 
.  .  .  Ah-h!  Moi  aussi,  Monsieur.  And,  remember, 
after  the  third  dance ! " 

248 


FETE    GALANTE 


She  turned  slowly  from  him  to  confront  an  ag 
grieved  group  of  masked  young  men,  who  came  up 
very  much  hurt,  clamouring  for  justice,  expkining 
volubly  that  it  was  up  to  her  to  keep  her  engagements 
and  dance  with  somebody  besides  Duane  Mallett. 

"  Mon  Dieu,  Messieurs,  je  ne  demanderais  pas 
mieux,"  she  said  gaily.  "  Why  didn't  somebody  ask 
me  before?  " 

"  You  promised  us  each  a  dance,"  retorted  Tappan 
sulkily,  "  but  you  never  made  good.  I'll  take  mine  now 
if  you  don't  mind " 

"  I'm  down  first !  "  insisted  the  Pink  Jun. 

They  squabbled  over  her  furiously;  Bunbury  Gray 
got  her ;  she  swung  away  into  a  waltz  on  his  arm,  glanc 
ing  backward  at  Duane,  who  watched  her  until  she  dis 
appeared  in  the  whirl  of  dancers.  Then  he  strolled  to 
the  edge  of  the  lantern-lit  glade,  stood  for  a  moment 
looking  absently  at  the  shadowy  woods  beyond,  and 
presently  sauntered  into  the  luminous  dusk,  which  be 
came  darker  and  more  opaque  as  he  left  the  glare  of 
the  glade  behind. 

Here  and  there  fantastic  figures  loomed,  moving 
slowly,  two  and  two,  under  the  fairy  foliage;  on  the 
Gray  Water  canoes  strung  with  gaudy  paper  lanterns 
drifted;  clouds  of  red  fire  rolled  rosy  and  vaporous 
along  the  water's  edge;  and  in  the  infernal  glow,  hazy 
shapes  passed  and  repassed,  finding  places  among  scores 
of  rustic  tables,  where  servants  in  old-time  livery  and 
powdered  wigs  hurried  to  and  fro  with  ices  and  salads, 
and  set  the  white-covered  tables  with  silverware  and 
crystal. 

A  dainty  masked  figure  in  demon  red  flitted  across 
his  path  in  the  uncanny  .radiance.  He  hailed  her,  and 
she  turned,  hesitated,  then,  as  though  convinced  of  his 

249 


identity,  laughed,  and  hastened  on  with  a  nod  of  in 
vitation. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  pretty  mask  ? "  he  in 
quired,  wending  his  pace  and  trying  to  recognise  the 
costume  in  the  uncertain  cross  light. 

But  she  merely  laughed  and  continued  to  retreat 
before  him,  keeping  the  distance  between  them,  hasten 
ing  her  steps  whenever  he  struck  a  faster  gait,  pausing 
and  looking  back  at  him  with  a  mocking  smile  when  his 
steps  slackened;  a  gracefully  malicious,  tormenting, 
laughing  creature  of  lace  and  silk,  whose  retreat  was 
a  challenge,  whose  every  movement  and  gesture  seemed 
instinct  with  the  witchery  of  provocation. 

On  the  edge  of  the  ring  of  tables  she  paused,  picked 
up  a  goblet,  held  it  out  to  a  passing  servant,  who  im 
mediately  filled  the  glass. 

Then,  before  Duane  could  catch  her,  she  drained  the 
goblet  to  his  health  and  fled  into  the  shadows,  he  hard 
on  her  heels,  pressing  her  closer,  closer,  until  the  pace 
became  too  hot  for  her,  and  she  turned  to  face  him, 
panting  and  covering  her  masked  face  with  her  fan. 

"  Now,  my  fair  unknown,  we  shall  pay  a  few  penal 
ties,"  he  said  with  satisfaction;  but  she  defended  her 
self  so  adroitly  that  he  could  not  reach  her  mask. 

"  Be  fair  to  me,"  she  gasped  at  last ;  "  why  are  you 
so  rough  with  me  when — when  you  need  not  be?  I 
knew  you  at  once,  Jack." 

And  she  dropped  her  arms,  standing  resistless, 
breathing  fast,  her  masked  face  frankly  upturned  to  be 
kissed. 

"  Now,  who  the  devil,"  thought  Duane,  "  have  I 
got  in  my  arms  ?  And  for  whom  does  she  take  me  ?  " 

He  gazed  searchingly  into  the  slitted  eye-holes ;  the 
eyes  appeared  to  be  blue,  as  well  as  he  could  make  out. 

250 


FETE   GALANTE 


He  looked  at  the  fresh  laughing  mouth,  a  young,  sensi 
tive  mouth,  which  even  in  laughter  seemed  not  e»tirely 

gay- 

"  Don't  you  really  mind  if  I  kiss  you  ?  "  He  spoke 
in  a  whisper  to  disguise  his  voice. 

"  Isn't  it  a  little  late  to  ask  me  that  ?  "  she  said ; 
and  under  her  mask  the  colour  stained  her  skin.  "  I 
think  what  we  do  now  scarcely  matters." 

She  was  so  confident,  so  plainly  awaiting  his  caress, 
that  for  a  moment  he  was  quite  ready  to  console  her. 
And  did  not,  could  not,  with  the  fragrant  and  yielding 
intimacy  of  Geraldine  still  warm  in  his  quickened  heart. 

She  stood  quite  motionless,  her  little  hands  warm  in 
his,  her  masked  face  upturned.  And,  as  he  merely 
stared  at  her: 

"  What  is  the  matter,  Jack?  "  she  breathed.  "  Why 
do  you  look  at  me  so  steadily?  " 

He  ought  to  have  let  her  go  then ;  he  hesitated,  won 
dering  which  Jack  she  supposed  him  to  be;  and  before 
he  realised  it  her  arms  were  on  his  shoulders,  her  mouth 
nearer  to  his. 

"  Jack,  you  frighten  me !     What  is  it  ?  " 

"  N-nothing,"  he  continued  to  stammer. 

"  Yes,  there  is.  Does  your — your  wife  suspect — 
anything " 

"  No,  she  doesn't,"  said  Duane  grimly,  trying  to 
free  himself  without  seeming  to.  "  I've  got  an  appoint 
ment " 

But  the  girl  said  piteously :  "  It  isn't — Geraldine, 
is  it?" 

"What!" 

"  You — you  admitted  that  she  attracted  you — for 
a  little  while.  .  .  .  Oh,  I  did  forgive  you,  Jack;  truly 
I  did  with  all  my  miserable  heart!  I  was  so  fearfully 

251 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


unhappy — I  would  have  done  anything."  .  .  .  Her 
face  flushed  scarlet.  "  And  I — did.  .  .  .  But  you  do 
love  me,  don't  you  ?  "  And  the  next  moment  her  lips 
were  on  his  with  a  sob. 

Duane  reached  back  and  quietly  unclasped  her 
fingers.  Then  very  gently  he  forced  her  to  a  seat  on 
a  great  fallen  log.  Still  looking  up  at  him,  droopingly 
pathetic  in  contrast  to  her  gay  debut  with  him,  she 
naively  slipped  up  the  mask  over  her  forehead  and 
passed  her  hand  across  her  pretty  blue  eyes.  Sylvia 
Quest ! 

The  sinister  significance  of  her  attitude  flashed  over 
him,  all  doubt  vanished,  all  the  comedy  of  their  en 
counter  was  gone  in  an  instant.  Over  him  swept  a 
startled  sequence  of  emotions — bitter  contempt  for 
Dysart,  scorn  of  the  wretchedly  equivocal  situation  and 
of  the  society  that  bred  it,  a  miserable  desire  to  spare 
her,  vexation  at  himself  for  what  he  had  unwittingly 
stumbled  upon.  The  last  thought  persisted,  dominated ; 
succeeded  by  a  disgusted  determination  that  she  must 
be  spared  the  shame  and  terror  of  what  she  had  inad 
vertently  revealed;  that  she  must  never  know  she  had 
not  been  speaking  to  Dysart  himself. 

"  If  I  tell  you  that  all  is  well — and  if  I  tell  you  no 
more  than  that,"  he  whispered,  "  will  you  trust  me?  " 

"  Have  I  not  done  so,  Jack  ?  " 

The  tragedy  in  her  lifted  eyes  turned  him  cold  with 
fury. 

"  Then  wait  here  until  I  return,"  he  said. 
"  Promise." 

"  I  promise,"  she  sighed,  "  but  I  don't  understand. 
I'm  a — a  little  frightened,  dear.  But  I — believe  you." 

He  swung  on  his  heel  and  made  toward  the  lights 
once  more,  and  a  moment  later  the  man  he  sought 

252 


FETE    GALANTE 


passed  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  and  Duane  knew  him 
by  his  costume,  which  was  a  blue  replica  of  his  own  gray 
silks. 

"  Dysart !  "  he  said  sharply. 

The  masked  figure  swung  gracefully  around  and 
stood  still,  searching  the  shadowy  woodland  inquiringly. 

"  I  want  a  word  with  you.  Here — not  in  the  light, 
if  you  please.  You  recognise  my  voice,  don't  you?  " 

"  Is  that  you,  Mallett  ?  "  asked  Dysart  coldly,  as 
the  former  appeared  in  the  light  for  an  instant  and 
turned  back  again  with  a  curt  gesture. 

"  Yes.  I  want  you  to  step  over  here  among  the 
trees,  where  nobody  can  interrupt  us." 

Dysart  followed  more  slowly;  came  to  a  careless 
halt: 

"  Well,  what  the  devil  do  you  want?  "  he  demanded 
insolently. 

"  I'll  tell  you.  I've  had  an  encounter  with  a  mask 
who  mistook  me  for  you.  .  .  .  And  she  has  said — sev 
eral  things — under  that  impression.  She  still  believes 
that  I  am  you.  I  asked  her  to  wait  for  me  over  there 
by  those  oaks.  Do  you  see  where  I  mean?  "  He  pointed 
and  Dysart  nodded  coolly.  "  Well,  then,  I  want  you  to 
go  back  there — find  her,  and  act  as  though  it  had  been 
you  who  heard  what  she  said,  not  I." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  mean  exactly  that.  The  girl  ought  never  to 
know  that  what  she  said  was  heard  and — and  under 
stood,  Dysart,  by  any  man  in  the  world  except  the 
blackguard  I'm  telling  this  to.  Now,  do  you  under 
stand?" 

He  stepped  nearer: 

"  The  girl  is  Sylvia  Quest.  Now,  do  you  under 
stand,  damn  you ! " 

253 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


A  stray  glimmer  from  the  distant  lanterns  fell 
across  Dysart's  masked  visage.  The  skin  around  the 
mouth  was  loose  and  ashy,  the  dry  lips  worked. 

"  That  was  a  dirty  trick  of  yours,"  he  stammered ; 
"  a  scoundrelly  thing  to  do." 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  I  dreamed  for  an  instant 
that  she  was  convicting  herself  and  you?  "  said  Duane 
in  bitter  contempt.  "  Go  and  manufacture  some  ex 
planation  of  my  conduct  as  though  it  were  your 
own.  Let  her  have  that  much  peace  of  mind,  any 
way." 

"  You  young  sneak !  "  retorted  Dysart.  "  I  sup 
pose  you  think  that  what  you  have  heard  will  warrant 
your  hanging  around  my  wife.  Try  it  and  see." 

"  Good  God,  Dysart ! "  he  said,  "  I  never  thought 
you  were  anything  more  vicious  than  what  is  called  a 
'  dancing  man.'  What  are  you,  anyhow?  " 

"  You'll  learn  if  you  tamper  with  my  affairs,"  said 
Dysart.  He  whipped  off  his  mask  and  turned  a  corpse- 
like  visage  on  the  younger  man.  Every  feature  of  his 
face  had  altered;  his  good  looks  were  gone,  the  youth 
in  his  eyes  had  disappeared,  only  a  little  evil  lustre 
played  over  them ;  and  out  of  the  drawn  pallor  Duane 
saw  an  old  man  peering,  an  old  man's  lips  twitching 
back  from  uneven  and  yellowed  teeth. 

"  Mallett,"  he  said,  "  you  listen  to  me.  Keep  your 
investigating  muzzle  out  of  my  affairs ;  forget  what 
you've  ferreted  out ;  steer  clear  of  me  and  mine.  I  want 
no  scandal,  but  if  you  raise  a  breath  of  it  you'll  have 
enough  concerning  yourself  to  occupy  you.  Do  you 
understand?  " 

"  No,"  said  Duane  mechanically,  staring  at  the 
man  before  him. 

"  Well,  then,  to  be  more  precise,  if  you  lift  one 
254 


FETE    GALANTE 


finger  to  injure  me  you'll  cut  a  figure  in  court.  .  .  . 
And  you  can  marry  her  later." 

"Who?" 

"  My  wife.  I  don't  think  Miss  Seagrave  will  stand 
for  what  I'll  drag  you  through  if  you  don't  keep  clear 
of  me ! " 

Duane  gazed  at  him  curiously: 

"  So  that  is  what  you  are,  Dysart,"  he  said  aloud 
to  himself. 

Dysart's  temples  reddened.     . 

"  Yes,  and  then  some !  .  .  .  I  understand  that  you 
have  given  yourself  the  privilege  of  discussing  my  finan 
cial  affairs  in  public.  Have  you?  " 

Duane  said  in  a  dull  voice :  "  The  Algonquin  Trust 
was  mentioned,  I  believe.  I  did  say  that  you  are  a 
director." 

"  You  said  I  was  hard  hit  and  that  the  Clearing! 
House  meant  to  weed  out  a  certain  element  that  I  repre 
sented  in  New  York." 

"  I  did  not  happen  to  say  that,"  said  Duane  wear 
ily,  "  but  another  man  did." 

"Oh.     You  didn't  say  it?" 

"  No.    I  don't  lie,  Dysart." 

"  Then  add  to  that  negative  virtue  by  keeping  your 
mouth  shut,"  said  Dysart  between  his  teeth,  "  or  you'll 
have  other  sorts  of  suits  on  your  hands.  I  warn  you 
now  to  keep  clear  of  me  and  mine." 

"  Just  what  is  yours?  "  inquired  Duane  patiently. 

"  You'll  find  out  if  you  touch  it." 

"  Oh.  Is — is  Miss  Quest  included  by  any  hazard  ? 
Because  if  the  right  chance  falls  my  way,  I  shall  cer 
tainly  interfere." 

"  If  you  do,  I  shall  begin  suit  for  alienation  within 
twenty-four  hours." 

18  255 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Oh,  no,  you  won't.  You're  horribly  afraid,  Dy- 
sart.  This  grimacing  of  yours  is  fear.  All  you  want 
is  to  be  let  alone,  to  burrow  through  the  society  that 
breeds  your  sort.  Like  a  maggot  in  a  chestnut  you  feed 
on  what  breeds  you.  I  don't  care.  Feed!  What  bred 
you  is  as  rotten  as  you  are.  I'm  done  with  it — done 
with  all  this,"  turning  his  head  toward  the  flare  of  light. 
"  Go  on  and  burrow.  What  nourishes  you  can  look  out 
for  itself.  .  .  .  Only  " — he  wheeled  around  and  looked 
into  the  darkness  where,  unseen,  Sylvia  Quest  awaited 
him — "  only,  in  this  set,  the  young  have  less  chance  than 
the  waifs  of  the  East  Side." 

He  walked  slowly  up  to  Dysart  and  struck  him 
across  the  face  with  open  palm. 

"  Break  with  that  girl  or  I'll  break  your  head," 
he  said. 

Dysart  was  down  on  the  leaves,  struggling  up  to 
his  knees,  then  to  his  feet,  the  thin  blood  running  across 
his  chin.  The  next  instant  he  sprang  at  Duane,  who 
caught  him  by  both  arms  and  forced  him  savagely  into 
quivering  inertia. 

"Don't,"  he  said.  "You're  only  a  thing  that 
dances.  Don't  move,  I  tell  you.  .  .  .  Wipe  that  blood 
off  and  go  and  set  the  silly  girl's  heart  at  rest.  .  .  . 
And  keep  away  from  her  afterward.  Do  you  hear  ?  " 

He  set  his  teeth  and  shook  him  so  wickedly  that  Dy- 
sart's  head  rolled  and  his  wig  fell  off. 

"  I  know  something  of  your  sloppy  record,"  he  con 
tinued,  still  shaking  him ;  "  I  know  about  your  lap-dog 
fawning  around  Miss  Seagrave.  It  is  generally  under 
stood  that  you're  as  sexless  as  any  other  of  your  kind. 
I  thought  so,  too.  Now  I  know  you.  Keep  clear  of  me 
and  mine,  Dysart.  .  .  .  And  that  will  be  about  all." 

He  left  him  planted  against  a  tree  and  walked  to- 
256 


FETE    GALANTE 


ward  the  lights  once  more,  breathing  heavily  and  in  an 
ugly  mood. 

On  the  edge  of  the  glade,  just  outside  the  lantern 
glow,  he  stood  sombre,  distrait,  inspecting  the  torn  lace 
on  his  sleeve,  while  all  around  him  people  were  un 
masking  amid  cries  of  surprise  and  shouts  of  laughter, 
and  the  orchestra  was  sounding  a  march,  and  multi 
coloured  Bengal  fires  rolled  in  clouds  from  the  water's 
edge,  turning  the  woods  to  a  magic  forest  and  the  peo 
ple  to  tinted  wraiths. 

Behind  him  he  heard  Rosalie's  voice,  caressing,  tor 
menting  by  turns ;  and,  glancing  around  for  her  victim, 
beheld  Grandcourt  at  heel  in  calflike  adoration. 

Kathleen's  laughter  swung  him  the  other  way. 

"  Oh,  Duane,"  she  cried,  the  pink  of  excitement  in 
her  cheeks,  "  isn't  it  all  too  heavenly !  It  looks  like 
Paradise  afire  with  all  those  rosy  clouds  rolling  under 
foot.  Have  you  ever  seen  anything  quite  as  charm- 
ing?" 

"  It's  rotten,"  said  Duane  brusquely,  tearing  the 
tattered  lace  free  and  tossing  it  aside. 

"  Wh-what !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  say  it's  all  rotten,"  he  repeated,  looking  up  at 
her.  "  All  this — the  whole  thing — the  stupidity  of  it — 
the  society  that's  driven  to  these  kind  of  capers,  dread 
ing  the  only  thing  it  ever  dreads — ennui !  Look  at  us 
all !  For  God's  sake,  survey  us  damn  fools,  herded 
here  in  our  pinchbeck  mummery — forcing  the  sanc 
tuary  of  these  decent  green  woods,  polluting  them 
with  smoke  and  noise  and  dirty  little  intrigues !  I'm 
sick  of  it !  " 

"Duane!" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  I'm  one  of  'em — dragging  my  idleness 
and  viciousness  and  my  stupidity  and  my  money  at  my 

257 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


heels.  I  tell  you,  Kathleen,  this  is  no  good.  There's  a 
stench  of  money  everywhere;  there's  a  staler  aroma  in 
the  air,  too — the  dubious  perfume  of  decadence,  of 
moral  atrophy,  of  stupid  recklessness,  of  the  ennui  that 
breeds  intrigue!  I'm  deadly  tired  of  it — of  the  sort  of 
people  I  was  born  among;  of  their  women  folk,  whose 
sole  intellectual  relaxation  is  in  pirouetting  along  the 
danger  mark  without  overstepping,  and  in  concealing 
it  when  they  do ;  of  the  overgroomed  men  who  can  do 
nothing  except  what  can  be  done  with  money,  who 
think  nothing,  know  nothing,  sweat  nothing  but  money 
and  what  it  can  buy — like  horses  and  yachts  and  prima 
donnas " 

She  uttered  a  shocked  exclamation,  but  he  went 
on: 

"  Yes,  prima  donnas.  Which  of  our  friends  was  it 
who  bought  that  pretty  one  that  sang  in  *  La  Esmer- 
alda'?" 

"  Duane !  "  she  exclaimed  in  consternation ;  but  he 
took  her  protesting  hands  in  his  and  held  her  power 
less. 

"  You  happen  to  be  a  darling,"  he  said ;  "  but  you 
were  not  born  to  this  environment.  Geraldine  was — 
and  she  is  a  darling.  God  bless  her.  Outside  of  my 
sister,  Nai'da,  and  you  two — with  the  exception  of  the 
newly  fledged  and  as  yet  mercifully  unregurgitated  with 
vicious  wisdom — who  are  all  these  people?  Ciphers, 
save  for  their  balances  at  their  banks ;  nameless,  save 
for  the  noisy  reiteration  of  their  hard-fisted  forebears' 
names;  without  any  ambition,  except  financial  and  so 
cial;  without  any  objective,  save  the  escape  from  ennui 
— without  any  taste,  culture,  inspiration,  except  that 
of  physical  gratification !  Oh,  Lord,  I'm  one  of  them, 
but  I  resign  to-night." 

258 


FETE    GALANTE 


"  Duane,  you're  quite  mad,"  she  said,  wrenching  her 
hands  free  and  gazing  at  him  rather  fearfully. 

"  I  think  he's  dead  sensible,"  said  a  calm  voice  at 
her  elbow ;  and  Scott  Seagrave  appeared,  twirling  his 
mask  and  blinking  at  them  through  his  spectacles. 

Duane  laughed :  "  Of  course  I  am,  you  old  reptile- 
hunting,  butterfly-chasing  antediluvian !  But,  come 
on ;  Byzantium  is  gorging  its  diamond-swathed  girth 
yonder  with  salad  and  champagne;  and  I'm  hungry, 
even  if  Kathleen  isn't " 

"  I  am!  "  she  exclaimed  indignantly.  "  Scott,  can't 
you  find  Nai'da  and  Geraldine?  Duane  and  I  will  keep 
a  table  until  you  return " 

"  I'll  find  them,"  said  Duane ;  and  he  walked  off 
among  the  noisy,  laughing  groups,  his  progress  greeted 
uproariously  from  table  to  table.  He  found  Nai'da  and 
Bunbury  Gray,  and  they  at  once  departed  for  the  ren 
dezvous  indicated. 

"  Geraldine  was  here  a  little  while  ago,"  said  Gray, 
"  but  she  walked  to  the  lake  with  Jack  Dysart.  My, 
but  she's  hitting  it  up,"  he  added  admiringly. 

"  Hitting  it  up  ?  "  repeated  Duane. 

"  For  a  girl  who  never  does,  I  mean.  I  imagine  that 
she's  a  novice  with  champagne.  Champagne  and  Ger 
aldine  make  a  very  fetching  combination,  I  can  tell 

you." 

"  She  took  no  more  than  I,"  observed  Nai'da  with 
a  shrug ;  "  one  solitary  glass.  If  a  girl  happens  to  be 
high  strung  and  ventures  to  laugh  a  little,  some 
wretched  man  is  sure  to  misunderstand !  Bunny,  you're 
a  gadabout ! " 

She  made  her  way  out  from  the  maze  of  tables, 
Bunny  following,  somewhat  abashed ;  and  Duane  walked 
toward  the  shore,  where  dozens  of  lantern-hung  canoes 

259 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


bobbed,  and  the  pasteboard   cylinders  of  Bengal  fire 
had  burned  to  smouldering  sparks. 

In  the  dim  light  he  came  on  the  people  he  was  look 
ing  for,  seated  on  the  rocks.  Dysart,  at  her  feet,  was 
speaking  in  an  undertone;  Geraldine,  partly  turned 
away  from  him,  hands  clasped  around  her  knees,  was 
staring  steadily  across  the  water. 

Neither  rose  as  he  came  up;  Dysart  merely  became 
mute;  Geraldine  looked  around  with  a  start;  her  lips 
parted  in  a  soundless,  mechanical  greeting,  then  the 
flush  in  her  cheeks  brightened ;  and  as  she  rose,  Dysart 
got  onto  his  feet  and  stood  silently  facing  the  new  ar 
rival. 

"  I  said  after  the  third  dance,  you  know,"  she  ob 
served  with  an  assumed  lightness  that  did  not  deceive 
him.  And,  as  he  made  no  answer,  he  saw  the  faint 
flicker  of  fright  in  her  eyes  and  the  lower  lip  quiver. 

He  said  pleasantly,  controlling  his  voice :  "  Isn't 
this  after  the  third  dance?  You  are  to  be  my  partner 
for  supper,  I  think." 

"  A  long  time  after ;  and  I've  already  sat  at  Bel- 
shazzar's  feast,  thank  you.  I  couldn't  very  well  starve 
waiting  for  you,  could  I  ?  "  And  she  forced  a  smile. 

"  Nevertheless,  I  must  claim  your  promise,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  silence ;  she  stood  for  a  moment  gazing 
at  nothing,  with  the  same  bright,  fixed  smile,  then 
turned  and  glanced  at  Dysart.  The  glance  was  his 
dismissal  and  he  knew  it. 

"  If  I  must  give  you  up,"  he  said  cheerfully,  at  his 
ease,  "  please  pronounce  sentence." 

"  I  am  afraid  you  really  must,  Mr.  Dysart." 

There  was  another  interval  of  constraint;  then 
Dysart  spoke.  His  self-possession  was  admirable,  his 
words  perfectly  chosen,  his  exit  in  faultless  taste. 

260 


FETE   GALANTE 


They  looked  after  him  until  he  was  lost  to  view  in 
the  throngs  beyond,  then  the  girl  slowly  reseated  her 
self,  eyes  again  fixed  on  the  water,  hands  clasped  tightly 
upon  her  knee,  and  Duane  found  a  place  at  her  elbow. 
So  they  began  a  duet  of  silence. 

The  little  wavelets  came  dancing  shoreward  out  of 
the  darkness,  breaking  with  a  thin,  splashing  sound 
against  the  shale  at  their  feet.  Somewhere  in  the 
night  a  restless  heron  croaked  and  croaked  among  the 
willows. 

"Well,  little  girl?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"  Well  ?  "  she  inquired,  with  a  calmness  that  did  not 
mislead  him. 

"  I  couldn't  come  to  you  after  the  third  dance," 
he  said. 

"Why?" 

He  evaded  the  question :  "  When  I  came  back  to  the 
glade  the  dancing  was  already  over;  so  I  got  Kath 
leen  and  Naida  to  save  a  table." 

"  Where  had  you  been  all  the  while  ?  " 

"  If  you  really  wish  to  know,"  he  said  pleasantly, 
"  I  was  talking  to  Jack  Dysart  on  some  rather  im 
portant  matters.  I  did  not  realise  how  the  time  went." 

She  sat  mute,  head  lowered,  staring  out  across  the 
dark  water.  Presently  he  laid  one  hand  over  hers,  and 
she  straightened  up  with  a  tiny  shock,  turned  and 
looked  him  full  in  the  eyes. 

"  I'll  tell  you  why  you  failed  me — failed  to  keep  the 
first  appointment  I  ever  asked  of  you.  It  was  because 
you  were  so  preoccupied  with  a  mask  in  flame  colour." 

He  thought  a  moment: 

"  Did  you  believe  you  saw  me  with  somebody  in  a 
vermilion  costume  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  did  see  you.  It  was  too  late  for  me  to  re- 
261 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


tire  without   attracting  your  attention.     I  was  not  a 
willing  eavesdropper." 

"  Who  was  the  girl  you  thought  you  saw  me  with?  " 

"  Sylvia  Quest.  She  unmasked.  There  is  no  mis 
take." 

So  he  was  obliged  to  lie,  after  all. 

"  It  must  have  been  Dysart  you  saw.  His  costume 
is  very  like  mine,  you  know " 

"  Does  Jack  Dysart  stand  for  minutes  holding  Syl 
via's  hands — and  is  she  accustomed  to  place  her  hands 
on  his  shoulders,  as  though  expecting  to  be  kissed? 
And  does  he  kiss  her  ?  " 

So  he  had  to  lie  again :  "  No,  of  course  not,"  he  said, 
smiling.  "  So  it  could  not  have  been  Dysart." 

"  There  are  only  two  costumes  like  yours  and  Mr. 
Dysart's.  Do  you  wish  me  to  believe  that  Sylvia  is 
common  and  depraved  enough  to  put  her  arms  around 
the  neck  of  a  man  who  is  married  ?  " 

There  was  no  other  way :  "  No,"  he  said,  "  Sylvia 
isn't  that  sort,  of  course." 

"  It  was  either  Mr.  Dysart  or  you." 

He  said  nothing. 

"  Then  it  was  you !  "  in  hot  contempt. 

Still  he   said  nothing. 

"  Was  it  ?  "  with  a  break  in  her  voice. 

"  Men  can't  admit  things  of  that  kind,"  he  managed 
to  say. 

The  angry  colour  surged  up  to  her  cheeks,  the 
angry  tears  started,  but  her  quivering  lips  were  not  un 
der  command  and  she  could  only  stare  at  him  through 
the  blur  of  grief,  while  her  white  hands  clinched  and 
relaxed,  and  her  fast-beating  heart  seemed  to  be  driving 
the  very  breath  from  her  body. 

"  Geraldine,  dear " 

262 


FETE   GALANTE 


"  It  wasn't  fair !  "  she  broke  out  fiercely ;  "  there 
is  no  honour  in  you — no  loyalty!  Oh,  Duane!  Duane! 
How  could  you — at  the  very  moment  we  were  nearer 
together  than  we  had  ever  been!  It  isn't  jealousy  that 
is  crying  out  in  me;  it  is  nothing  common  or  ignoble 
in  me  that  resents  what  you  have  done!  It  is  the 
treachery  of  it!  How  could  you,  Duane?" 

The  utter  hopelessness  of  clearing  himself  left  him 
silent.  How  much  was  to  be  asked  of  him  as  sacrifice 
to  code?  How  far  was  he  expected  to  go  to  shield 
Sylvia  Quest — this  unhappy,  demoralised  girl,  whose 
reputation  was  already  at  the  mercy  of  two  men? 

"  Geraldine,"  he  said,  "  it  was  nothing  but  a  carni 
val  flirtation — a  chance  encounter  that  meant  nothing 
—the  idlest  kind  of " 

"  Is  it  idle  to  do  what  you  did — and  what  she  did  ? 
Oh,  if  I  had  only  not  seen  it — if  I  only  didn't  know !  I 
never  dreamed  of  such  a  thing  in  you.  Bunny  Gray 
and  I  were  taking  a  short  cut  to  the  Gray  Water  to 
sit  out  the  rest  of  his  dance — and  he  saw  it,  too — 
and  he  was  furious — he  must  have  been — because  he's 
devoted  to  Sylvia."  She  made  a  hopeless  gesture  and 
dropped  her  hand  to  her  side :  "  What  a  miserable  night 
it  has  been  for  me!  It's  all  spoiled — it's  ended.  .  .  . 
And  I — my  courage  went.  .  .  .  I've  done  what  I  never 
thought  to  do  again — what  I  was  fighting  down  to 
make  myself  safe  enough  for  you  to  marry — you  to 
marry !  "  She  laughed,  but  the  mirth  rang  shockingly 
false. 

"  You  mean  that  you  had  one  glass  of  champagne," 
he  said. 

"  Yes,  and  another  with  Jack  Dysart.  I'll  have 
some  more  presently.  Does  it  concern  you  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,  Geraldine." 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You  are  wrong.  Neither  does  what  you've  been 
doing  concern  me — the  kind  of  man  you've  been — the 
various  phases  of  degradation  you  have  accom 
plished " 

"  What  particular  species  of  degradation  ?  "  he 
asked  wearily,  knowing  that  Dysart  was  now  bent  on 
his  destruction.  "  Never  mind ;  don't  answer,  Ger- 
aldine,"  he  added,  "  because  there's  no  use  in  trying 
to  set  myself  right;  there's  no  way  of  doing  it.  All 
I  can  say  is  that  I  care  absolutely  nothing  for  Sylvia 
Quest,  nor  she  for  me;  that  I  love  you;  that  if  I  have 
ever  been  unworthy  of  you — as  God  knows  I  have — 
it  is  a  bitterer  memory  to  me  than  it  could  ever  be 
to  you." 

"  Shall  we  go  back  ?  "  she  said  evenly. 

"  Yes,  if  you  wish." 

They  walked  back  together  in  silence ;  a  j  oily  com 
pany  claimed  them  for  their  table;  Geraldine  laugh 
ingly  accepted  a  glass  of  champagne,  turning  her  back 
squarely  on  Duane. 

Naida  and  Kathleen  came  across. 

"  We  waited  for  you  as  long  as  we  could,"  said  his 
pretty  sister,  smothering  a  yawn.  "  I'm  horribly 
sleepy.  Duane,  it's  three  o'clock.  Would  you  mind 
taking  me  across  to  the  house?  " 

He  cast  a  swift,  anxious  glance  at  Geraldine;  her 
vivid  colour,  the  splendour  of  her  eyes,  her  feverish 
laughter  were  ominous.  With  her  were  Gray  and  Syl 
via,  rather  noisy  in  their  gaiety,  and  the  boisterous 
Pink  'uns,  and  Jack  Dysart,  lingering  near,  the  make 
up  on  his  face  in  ghastly  contrast  to  his  ashen  pallor 
and  his  fixed  and  unvaried  grin. 

"  I'm  waiting,  Duane,"  said  Nai'da  plaintively. 

So  he  turned  away  with  her  through  the  woods, 
264 


FETE   GALANTE 


where  one  by  one  the  brilliant  lantern  flames  were  dying 
out,  and  where  already  in  the  east  a  silvery  lustre 
heralded  the  coming  dawn. 

When  he  returned,  Geraldine  was  gone.  At  the 
house  somebody  said  she  had  come  in  with  Kathleen, 
not  feeling  well. 

"  The  trouble  with  that  girl,"  said  a  man  whom  he 
did  not  know,  "  is  that  she's  had  too  much  cham 
pagne." 

"  You  lie,"  said  Duane  quietly.  "  Is  that  perfectly 
plain  to  you  ?  " 

For  a  full  minute  the  young  man  stood  rigid,  crim 
son,  glaring  at  Duane.  Then,  having  the  elements  of 
decency  in  him,  he  said : 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,  but  you  are  perfectly 
right.  I  did  lie.  And  I'll  see  that  nobody  else  does." 


CHAPTER    XII 

THE    L.OVE    OF    THE    GODS 

Two  days  later  the  majority  of  the  people  had  left 
Roya-Neh,  and  the  remainder  were  preparing  to  make 
their  adieux  to  the  young  chatelaine  by  proxy ;  for 
Geraldine  had  kept  her  room  since  the  night  of  the 
masked  fete,  and  nobody  except  Kathleen  and  Dr.  Bailey 
had  seen  her. 

"  Fashionable  fidgets,"  said  Dr.  Bailey,  in  answer 
to  amiable  inquiries ;  "  the  girl  has  been  living  on  her 
nerves,  like  the  rest  of  you,  only  she  can't  stand  as  much 
as  you  can." 

To    Duane    he    said,    in    reply   to    persistent    ques 
tions : 

"  As  a  plain  and  unromantic  proposition,  young 
man,  it  may  be  her  liver.  God  alone  knows  with  what 
young  women  stuff  their  bodies  in  those  bucolic  soli 
tudes." 

To  Kathleen  he  said,  after  questioning  her  and  lis 
tening  in  silence  to  her  guarded  replies: 

"  I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Severn. 
The  girl  is  extremely  nervous.  She  acts,  to  me,  as 
though  she  had  something  on  her  mind,  but  she  insists 
that  she  hasn't.  If  I  were  to  be  here,  I  might  come  to 
some  conclusion  within  the  next  day  or  two." 

Which  frightened  Kathleen,  and  she  asked  whether 
anything  serious  might  be  anticipated. 

"  Not  at  all,"  he  said. 

266 


THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

So,  as  he  was  taking  the  next  train,  there  was  noth 
ing  to  do.  He  left  a  prescription  and  whizzed  away  to 
the  railroad  station  with  the  last  motor-load  of  guests. 

There  remained  only  Duane,  Rosalie  Dysart,  Grand- 
court,  and  Sylvia  Quest,  a  rather  subdued  and  silent 
group  on  the  terrace,  unresponsive  to  Scott's  unfeigned 
gaiety  to  find  himself  comparatively  alone  and  free  to 
follow  his  own  woodland  predilections  once  more. 

"  A  cordial  host  you  are,"  observed  Rosalie ; 
"  you're  guests  are  scarcely  out  of  sight  before  you 
break  into  inhuman  chuckles." 

"  Speed  the  parting,"  observed  Scott,  in  excellent 
spirits ;  "  that's  the  truest  hospitality." 

"  I  suppose  your  unrestrained  laughter  will  be  our 
parting  portion  in  a  day  or  two,"  she  said,  amused. 

"  No ;  I  don't  mind  a  few  people.  Do  you  want  to 
come  and  look  for  scarabs  ?  " 

"  Scarabs  ?  Do  you  imagine  you're  in  Egypt,  my 
poor  friend  ?  " 

Scott  sniffed :  "  Didn't  you  know  we  had  a  few  liv 
ing  species  around  here?  Regular  scarabs.  Kathleen 
and  I  found  three  the  other  day — one  a  regular  beauty 
with  two  rhinoceros  horns  on  the  thorax  and  iridescent 
green  and  copper  tinted  wing-covers.  Do  you  want  to 
help  me  hunt  for  some  more?  You'll  have  to  put  on 
overshoes,  for  they're  in  the  cow-yards." 

Rosalie,  intensely  bored,  thanked  him  and  declined. 
Later  she  opened  a  shrimp-pink  sunshade  and,  followed 
by  Grandcourt,  began  to  saunter  about  the  lawn  in 
plain  sight,  as  people  do  preliminary  to  effacing  them 
selves  without  exciting  comment. 

But  there  was  nobody  to  comment  on  what  they  did ; 
Duane  was  reading  a  sporting-sheet,  souvenir  of  the 
departed  Bunbury ;  Sylvia  sat  pallid  and  preoccupied, 

267 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


cheek  resting  against  her  hand,  looking  out  over  the 
valley.  Her  brother,  her  only  living  relative,  was  sup 
posed  to  have  come  up  that  morning  to  take  her  to  the 
next  house  party  on  the  string  which  linked  the  days 
of  every  summer  for  her.  But  Stuyvesant  had  not 
arrived;  and  the  chances  were  that  he  would  turn  up 
within  a  day  or  two,  if  not  too  drunk  to  remember  her. 

So  Sylvia,  who  was  accustomed  to  waiting  for  her 
brother,  sat  very  colourless  and  quiet  by  the  terrace 
parapet,  pale  blue  eyes  resting  on  the  remoter  hills — 
not  always,  for  at  intervals  she  ventured  a  furtive  look 
at  Duane,  and  there  was  something  of  stealth  and  of 
fright  in  the  stolen  glance. 

As  for  Scott,  he  sat  on  the  parapet,  legs  swinging, 
fussing  with  a  pair  of  binoculars  and  informing  the 
two  people  behind  him — who  were  not  listening — that 
he  could  distinguish  a  black-billed  cuckoo  from  a 
thrasher  at  six  hundred  yards. 

Which  edified  neither  Sylvia  nor  Duane,  but  the  boy 
continued  to  impart  information  with  unimpaired  cheer 
fulness  until  Kathleen  came  out  from  the  house. 

"  How's   Sis  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  think  she  has  a  headache,"  replied  Kathleen, 
looking  at  Duane. 

"  Could  I  see  her  ?  "  he  asked. 

Kathleen  said  gently  that  Geraldine  did  not  feel  like 
seeing  anybody  at  that  time.  A  moment  later,  in 
obedience  to  Scott's  persistent  clamouring  for  scarabs, 
she  went  across  the  lawn  with  the  young  master  of 
Roya-Neh,  resigned  to  the  inevitable  in  the  shape  of 
two-horned  scarabs  or  black-billed  cuckoos. 

It  had  always  been  so  with  her;  it  would  always  be 
so.  Long  ago  the  Seagrave  twins  had  demanded  all 
she  had  to  give;  now,  if  Geraldine  asked  less,  Scott 

268 


THE   LOVE   OF    THE    GODS 

exacted  double.  And  she  gave — how  happily,  only  her 
Maker  and  her  conscience  knew. 

Duane  was  still  reading — or  he  had  all  the  appear 
ance  of  reading — when  Sylvia  lifted  her  head  from  her 
hand  and  turned  around  with  an  effort  that  cost  her 
what  colour  had  remained  under  the  transparent  skin 
of  her  oval  face. 

"  Duane,"  she  said,  "  it  occurred  to  me  just  now 
that  you  might  have  really  mistaken  what  I  said  and 
did  the  other  night."  She  hesitated,  nerving  herself 
to  encounter  his  eyes,  lifted  and  levelled  across  the  top 
of  his  paper  at  her. 

He  waited;  she  retained  enough  self-command  to 
continue  with  an  effort  at  lightness : 

"  Of  course  it  was  all  carnival  fun — my  pretending 
to  mistake  you  for  Mr.  Dysart.  You  understood  it, 
didn't  you?" 

"  Why,  of  course,"  he  said,  smiling. 

She  went  on :  "  I — don't  exactly  remember  what 
I  said — I  was  trying  to  mystify  you.  But  it  occurred 
to  me  that  perhaps  it  was  rather  imprudent  to  pre 
tend  to  be  on — on  such  impossible  terms  with  Mr. 
Dysart " 

There  was  something  too  painful  in  her  effort  for 
him  to  endure.  He  said  laughingly,  not  looking  at  her : 

"  Oh,  I  wasn't  ass  enough  to  be  deceived,  Sylvia. 
Don't  worry,  little  girl."  And  he  resumed  the  study 
of  his  paper. 

Minutes  passed — terrible  minutes  for  one  of  them, 
who  strove  to  find  relief  in  his  careless  reassurance,  tried 
desperately  to  believe  him,  to  deceive  that  intuition 
which  seldom  fails  her  sex. 

He,  with,  the  print  blurred  and  meaningless  before 
him,  sat  miserable,  dumb  with  the  sympathy  he  could 

269 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


not  show,  hot  with  the  anger  he  dared  not  express.  He 
thought  of  Dysart  as  he  had  revealed  himself,  now  gone 
back  to  town  to  face  that  little  crop  of  financial  ru 
mours  concerning  the  Algonquin  that  persisted  so 
wickedly  and  would  not  be  quieted.  For  the  first  time 
in  his  life,  probably,  Dysart  was  compelled  to  endure 
the  discomforts  of  a  New  York  summer — more  discom 
forts  this  summer  than  mere  dust  and  heat  and  noise. 
For  men  who  had  always  been  on  respectful  financial 
terms  with  Dysart  and  his  string  of  banks  and  his  Al 
gonquin  enterprise  were  holding  aloof  from  him;  men 
who  had  figured  for  years  in  the  same  columns  of  print 
where  his  name  was  so  often  seen  as  director  and  trustee 
and  secretary — fellow-members  who  served  for  the  hon 
our  of  serving  on  boards  of  all  sorts,  charity  boards, 
hospital,  museum,  civic  societies — these  men,  too, 
seemed  to  be  politely,  pleasantly,  even  smilingly  edging 
away  from  him  in  some  indefinable  manner. 

Which  seemed  to  force  him  toward  certain  compara 
tively  newcomers  among  the  wealthy  financiers  of  the 
metropolis — brilliant,  masterful,  restless  men  from  the 
West,  whose  friendship  in  the  beginning  he  had  sought, 
deeming  himself  farsighted. 

Now  that  his  vision  had  become  normally  adjusted 
he  cared  less  for  this  intimacy  which  it  was  too  late  to 
break — at  least  this  was  not  the  time  to  break  it  with 
money  becoming  unbelievably  scarcer  every  day  and  a 
great  railroad  man  talking  angrily,  and  another  great 
railroad  man  preaching  caution  at  a  time  when  the  cau 
tion  of  the  man  in  the  Street  might  mean  something  so 
serious  to  Dysart  that  he  didn't  care  to  think  about  it. 

Dysart  had  gone  back  to  New  York  in  company 
with  several  pessimistic  gentlemen — who  were  very  open 
about  backing  their  fancy ;  and  their  fancy  fell  on  that 

270 


THE   LOVE   OF   THE   GODS 

old,  ramshackle  jade,  Hard  Times,  by  Speculation  out 
of  Folly.  According  to  them  there  was  no  hope  of  her 
being  scratched  or  left  at  the  post. 

"  She'll  run  like  a  scared  hearse-horse,"  said  young 
Grandcourt  gloomily.  There  was  reason  for  his  gloom. 
Unknown  to  his  father  he  had  invested  heavily  in 
Dysart's  schemes.  It  was  his  father's  contempt  that  he 
feared  more  than  ruin. 

So  Dysart  had  gone  to  town,  leaving  behind  him  the 
utter  indifference  of  a  wife,  the  deep  contempt  of  a 
man ;  and  a  white-faced  girl  alone  with  her  memories — 
whatever  they  might  be — and  her  thoughts,  which  were 
painful  if  one  might  judge  by  her  silent,  rigid  abstrac 
tion,  and  the  lower  lip  which,  at  moments,  escaped, 
quivering,  from  the  close-set  teeth. 

When  Duane  rose,  folding  his  paper  with  a  care 
lessly  pleasant  word  or  two,  she  looked  up  in  a  kind  of 
naive  terror — like  a  child  startled  at  prospect  of  being 
left  alone.  It  was  curious  how  those  adrift  seemed  al 
ways  to  glide  his  way.  It  had  always  been  so ;  even 
stray  cats  followed  him  in  the  streets ;  unhappy  dogs 
trotted  persistently  at  his  heels;  many  a  journey  had 
he  made  to  the  Bide-a-wee  for  some  lost  creature's  sake ; 
many  a  softly  purring  cat  had  he  caressed  on  his  way 
through  life — many  a  woman. 

As  he  strolled  toward  the  eastern  end  of  the  terrace, 
Sylvia  looked  after  him;  and,  suddenly,  unable  to  en 
dure  isolation,  she  rose  and  followed  as  instinctively  as 
her  lesser  sisters-errant. 

It  was  the  trotting  of  little  footsteps  behind  him  on 
the  gravel  that  arrested  him.  A  glance  at  her  face  was 
enough;  vexed,  shocked,  yet  every  sympathy  instantly 
aroused,  he  resigned  himself  to  whatever  might  be  re 
quired  of  him;  and  wthin  him  a  bitter  mirth  stirred — 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


acrid,  unpleasant ;  but  his  smile  indicated  only  charmed 
surprise. 

"  I  didn't  suppose  you'd  care  for  a  stroll  with  me," 
he  said ;  "  it  is  exceedingly  nice  of  you  to  give  me  the 
chance." 

"  I  didn't  want  to  be  left  alone,"  she  said. 

"  It  is  rather  quiet  here  since  our  gay  birds  have 
migrated,"  he  said  in  a  matter-of-fact  way.  "  Which 
direction  shall  we  take?  " 

"  I— don't  care." 

"The  woods?" 

"  No,"  with  a  shudder  so  involuntary  that  he  no 
ticed  it. 

"  Well,  then,  we'll  go  cross  country " 

She  looked  at  her  thin,  low  shoes  and  then  at  him. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  "  that  won't  do,  will  it?  " 

She  shook  her  head. 

They  were  passing  the  Lodge  now  where  his  studio 
was  and  where  he  had  intended  to  pack  up  his  can 
vases  that  afternoon. 

"  I'll  brew  you  a  cup  of  tea  if  you  like,"  he  said ; 
"  that  is,  if  it's  not  too  unconventional  to  frighten 
you." 

She  smiled  and  nodded.  Behind  the  smile  her  heavy 
thoughts  throbbed  on:  How  much  did  this  man  know? 
How  much  did  he  suspect?  And  if  he  suspected, 
how  good  he  was  in  every  word  to  her — how  kind  and 
gentle  and  high-minded!  And  the  anguish  in  her  smile 
caused  him  to  turn  hastily  to  the  door  and  summon  old 
Miller  to  bring  the  tea  paraphernalia. 

There  was  nothing  to  look  at  in  the  studio;  all  the 
canvases  lay  roped  in  piles  ready  for  the  crates;  but 
Sylvia's  gaze  remained  on  them  as  though  even  the 
rough  backs  of  the  stretchers  fascinated  her. 

272 


THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

"  My  father  was  an  artist.  After  he  married  he 
did  not  paint.  My  mother  was  very  wealthy,  you 
know.  ...  It  seems  a  pity." 

"  What?    Wealth?  "  he  asked,  smiling. 

"  N-no.  I  mean  it  seems  a  little  tragic  to  me  that 
father  never  continued  to  paint." 

Miller's  granddaughter  came  in  with  the  tea.  She 
was  a  very  little  girl  with  yellow  hair  and  big  violet 
eyes.  After  she  had  deposited  everything,  she  went  over 
to  Duane  and  held  up  her  mouth  to  be  kissed.  He 
laughed  and  saluted  her.  It  was  a  reward  for  service 
which  she  had  suggested  when  he  first  came  to  Roya- 
Neh;  and  she  trotted  away  in  great  content. 

Sylvia's  indifferent  gaze  followed  her;  then  she 
sipped  the  tea  Duane  offered. 

"  Do  you  remember  your  father  ?  "  he  asked  pleas 
antly. 

"  Why,  yes.  I  was  fourteen  when  he  died.  I  re 
member  mother,  too.  I  was  seven." 

Duane  said,  not  looking  at  her :  "  It's  about  the 
toughest  thing  that  can  happen  to  a  girl.  It's  tough 
enough  on  a  boy." 

"  It  was  very  hard,"  she  said  simply. 

"  Haven't  you  any  relatives  except  your  brother 
Stuyvesant — "  he  began,  and  checked  himself,  remem 
bering  that  a  youthful  aunt  of  hers  had  eloped  under 
scandalous  circumstances,  and  at  least  one  uncle  was 
too  notorious  even  for  the  stomachs  of  the  society  that 
whelped  him. 

She  let  it  pass  in  silence,  as  though  she  had  not 
heard.  Later  she  declined  more  tea  and  sat  deep  in  her 
chair,  fingers  linked  under  her  chin,  lids  lowered. 

After  a  while,  as  she  did  not  move  or  speak,  he  ven 
tured  to  busy  himself  with  collecting  his  brushes,  odds 

273 


and  ends  of  studio  equipment.  He  scraped  several 
palettes,  scrubbed  up  some  palette-knives,  screwed  the 
tops  on  a  dozen  tubes  of  colour,  and  fussed  and  messed 
about  until  there  seemed  to  be  nothing  further  to  do. 
So  he  came  back  and  seated  himself,  and,  looking  up, 
saw  the  big  tears  stealing  from  under  her  closed  lids. 

He  endured  it  as  long  as  he  could.  Nothing  was 
said.  He  leaned  nearer  and  laid  his  hand  over  hers ; 
and  at  the  contact  she  slipped  from  the  chair,  slid  to 
her  knees,  and  laid  her  head  on  the  couch  beside  him, 
both  hands  covering  her  face,  which  had  turned  dead 
white. 

Minute  after  minute  passed  with  no  sound,  no  move 
ment  except  as  he  passed  his  hand  over  her  forehead 
and  hair.  He  knew  what  to  do  when  those  who  were 
adrift  floated  into  Port  Mallett.  And  sometimes  he 
did  more  than  was  strictly  required,  but  never  less. 
Toward  sundown  she  began  to  feel  blindly  for  her  hand 
kerchief.  He  happened  to  possess  a  fresh  one  and  put 
it  into  her  groping  hand. 

When  she  was  ready  to  rise  she  did  so,  keeping  her 
back  toward  him  and  standing  for  a  while  busy  with 
her  swollen  eyes  and  disordered  hair. 

"  Before  we  go  we  must  have  tea  together  again," 
he  said  with  perfectly  matter-of-fact  cordiality. 

"  Y-yes."    The  voice  was  very,  very  small. 

"  And  in  town,  too,  Sylvia.  I  had  no  idea  what  a 
companionable  girl  you  are — how  much  we  have  in  com 
mon.  You  know  silence  is  the  great  test  of  mutual  con 
fidence  and  understanding.  You'll  let  me  see  you  in 
town,  won't  you?  " 

"Yes."   * 

"  That  will  be  jolly.  I  suppose  now  that  you  and 
I  ought  to  be  thinking  about  dressing  for  dinner." 

274 


THE   LOVE   OF   THE   GODS 

She  assented,  moved  away  a  step  or  two,  halted, 
and,  still  with  her  back  turned,  held  out  her  hand  be 
hind  her.  He  took  it,  bent  and  kissed  it. 

"  See  you  at  dinner,"  he  said  cheerfully. 

And  she  went  out  very  quietly,  his  handkerchief 
pressed  against  her  eyes. 

He  came  back  into  the  studio,  swung  nervous 
ly  toward  the  couch,  turned  and  began  to  pace  the 
floor. 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  he  said ;  "  the  rottenness  of  it  all — the 
utter  rottenness." 

Dinner  that  night  was  not  a  very  gay  function ; 
after  coffee  had  been  served,  the  small  group  seemed 
to  disintegrate  as  though  by  some  prearrangement, 
Rosalie  and  Grandcourt  finding  a  place  for  themselves 
in  the  extreme  western  shadow  of  the  terrace  parapet, 
Kathleen  returning  to  the  living-room,  where  she  had 
left  her  embroidery. 

Scott,  talking  to  Sylvia  and  Duane,  continued  to 
cast  restless  glances  toward  the  living-room  until  he 
could  find  the  proper  moment  to  get  away.  And  in  a 
few  minutes  Duane  saw  him  seated,  one  leg  crossed  over 
the  other,  a  huge  volume  on  "  Scientific  Conservation  of 
Natural  Resources  "  open  on  his  knees,  seated  as  close 
to  Kathleen  as  he  could  conveniently  edge,  perfectly 
contented,  apparently,  to  be  in  her  vicinity. 

From  moment  to  moment,  as  her  pretty  hands  per 
formed  miracles  in  tinted  silks,  she  lifted  her  eyes  and 
silently  inspected  the  boy  who  sat  absorbed  in  his  book. 
Perhaps  old  memories  of  a  child  seated  in  the  school 
room  made  tender  the  curve  of  her  lips  as  she  turned 
again  to  her  embroidery ;  perhaps  a  sentiment  more  re 
cent  made  grave  the  beautiful  lowered  eyes. 

275 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Sylvia,  seated  at  the  piano,  idly  improvising,  had 
unconsciously  drifted  into  the  "  Menuet  d'Exaudet," 
and  Duane's  heart  began  to  quicken  as  he  stood  listen 
ing  and  looking  out  through  the  open  windows  at  the 
stars. 

How  long  he  stood  there  he  did  not  know ;  but  when, 
at  length,  missing  the  sound  of  the  piano,  he  looked 
around,  Sylvia  was  already  on  the  stairs,  looking  back 
at  him  as  she  moved  upward. 

"  Good-night,"  she  called  softly ;  "  I  am  very  tired," 
and  paused  as  he  came  forward  and  mounted  to  the 
step  below  where  she  waited. 

"  Good-night,  Miss  Quest,"  he  said,  with  that  nice 
informality  that  women  always  found  so  engaging.  "  If 
you  have  nothing  better  on  hand  in  the  morning,  let's 
go  for  a  climb.  I've  discovered  a  wild-boar's  nest  under 
the  Golden  Dome,  and  if  you'd  like  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
the  little,  furry,  striped  piglings,  I  think  we  can  man 
age  it." 

She  thanked  him  with  her  eyes,  held  out  her  thin, 
graceful  hand  of  a  schoolgirl,  then  turned  slowly  and 
continued  her  ascent. 

As  he  descended,  Kathleen,  looking  up  from  her  em 
broidery,  made  him  a  sign,  and  he  stood  still. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?  "  asked  Scott,  as  she  rose 
and  passed  him. 

"  I'm  coming  back  in  a  moment." 

Scott  restlessly  resumed  his  book,  raising  his  head 
from  time  to  time  as  though  listening  for  her  return, 
fidgeting  about,  now  examining  the  embroidery  she  had 
left  on  the  lamp-lit  table,  now  listlessly  running  over 
the  pages  that  had  claimed  his  close  attention  while  she 
had  been  near  him. 

Across  the  hall,  in  the  library,  Duane  stood  absently 
276 


THE   LOVE   OF    THE    GODS 

twisting  an  unlighted  cigar,  and  Kathleen,  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder,  eyes  lifted  in  sweet  distress,  was  search 
ing  for  words  that  seemed  to  evade  her. 

He  cut  the  knot  without  any  emotion: 

"  I  know  what  you  are  trying  to  say,  Kathleen.  It 
is  true  that  there  has  been  a  wretched  misunderstanding, 
but  if  I  know  Geraldine  at  all  I  know  that  a  mere  mis 
understanding  will  not  do  any  permanent  harm.  It  is 
something  else  that — worries  me." 

"  Oh,  Duane,  I  know !  I  know !  She  cannot  marry 
you — in  honour — until  that — that  terrible  danger  is 
eliminated.  She  will  not,  either.  But — don't  give  her 
up !  Be  with  her — with  us  in  this  crisis — during  it ! 
See  us  through  it,  Duane;  she  is  well  worth  what  she 
costs  us  both — and  costs  herself." 

"  She  must  marry  me  now,"  he  said.  "  I  want  to 
fight  this  thing  with  all  there  is  in  me  and  in  her,  and  in 
my  love  for  her  and  hers  for  me.  I  can't  fight  it  in 
this  blind,  aloof  way — this  thing  that  is  my  rival — that 
stands  with  its  claw  embedded  in  her  body  warning  me 
back!  The  horror  of  it  is  in  the  blind,  intangible,  ab 
stract  force  that  is  against  me.  I  can't  fight  it  aloof 
from  her ;  I  can't  take  her  away  from  it  unless  I  have 
her  in  my  arms  to  guard,  to  inspire,  to  comfort,  to 
watch.  Can't  you  see,  Kathleen,  that  I  must  have  her 
every  second  of  the  time?  " 

"  She  will  not  let  you  run  the  risk,"  murmured 
Kathleen.  "  Duane,  she  had  a  dreadful  night — she 
broke  down  so  utterly  that  it  scared  me.  She  is  hor 
ribly  frightened;  her  nervous  demoralisation  is  com 
plete.  For  the  first  time,  I  think,  she  is  really  terrified. 
She  says  it  is  hopeless,  that  her  will  and  nerve  are  un 
dermined,  her  courage  contaminated.  .  .  .  Hour  after 
hour  I  sat  with  her;  she  made  me  tell  her  about  her 

277 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


grandfather — about  what  I  knew  of  the — the  taint  in 
her  family." 

"  "those  things  are  merely  predispositions,"  he  said. 
"  Self-command  makes  them  harmless." 

"  I  told  her  that.  She  says  that  they  are  living 
sparks  that  will  smoulder  while  life  endures." 

"  Suppose  they  are,"  he  said ;  "  they  can  never 
flame  unless  nursed.  .  .  .  Kathleen,  I  want  to  see 
her " 

"  She  will  not." 

"  Has  she  spoken  at  all  of  me?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Bitterly?" 

"  Y-yes.  I  don't  know  what  you  did.  She  is  very 
morbid  just  now,  anyway ;  very  desperate.  But  I  know 
that,  unconsciously,  she  counts  on  an  adjustment  of 
any  minor  personal  difficulty  with  you.  .  .  .  She  loves 
you  dearly,  Duane." 

He  passed  an  unsteady  hand  across  his  eyes. 

"  She  must  marry  me.  I  can't  stand  aloof  from  this 
battle  any  longer." 

"  Duane,  she  will  not.  I — she  said  some  things — 
she  is  morbid,  I  tell  you — and  curiously  innocent — in  her 
thoughts — concerning  herself  and  you.  She  says  she 
can  never  marry." 

"  Exactly  what  did  she  say  to  you?  " 

Kathleen  hesitated;  the  intimacy  of  the  subject  left 
her  undecided ;  then  very  seriously  her  pure,  clear  gaze 
met  his : 

"  She  will  not  marry,  for  your  own  sake,  and  for  the 
sake  of  any — children.  She  has  evidently  thought  it 
all  out.  ...  I  must  tell  you  how  it  is.  There  is  no 
use  in  asking  her ;  she  will  never  consent,  Duane,  as  long 
as  she  is  afraid  of  herself.  And  how  to  quiet  that  fear 

278 


THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

by  exterminating  the  reason  for  it  I  don't  know — " 
Her  voice  broke  pitifully.  "  Only  stand  by  us,  Duane. 
Don't  go  away  just  now.  You  were  packing  to  go; 
but  please  don't  leave  me  just  yet.  Could  you  arrange 
to  remain  for  a  while?  " 

"  Yes,  I'll  arrange  it.  ...  I'm  a  little  troubled 
about  my  father — ';  He  checked  himself.  "  I  could 
run  down  to  town  for  a  day  or  two  and  return " 

"  Is  Colonel  Mallett  ill?  "  she  asked. 

"  N-no.  .  .  .  These  are  rather  strenuous  times — or 
threaten  to  be.  Of  course  the  Half-Moon  is  as  solid  as 
a  rock.  But  even  the  very,  very  great  are  beginning 
to  fuss.  .  .  .  And  my  father  is  not  young,  Kathleen. 
So  I  thought  I'd  like  to  run  down  and  take  him  out  to 
dinner  once  or  twice — to  a  roof-garden  or  something, 
you  know.  It's  rather  pathetic  that  men  of  his  age, 
grown  gray  in  service,  should  feel  obliged  to  remain  in 
the  stifling  city  this  summer." 

"  Of  course  you  must  go,"  she  said ;  "  you  couldn't 
even  hesitate.  Is  your  mother  worried?  " 

"  I  don't  suppose  she  has  the  slightest  notion  that 
there  is  anything  to  worry  over.  And  there  isn't,  I 
think.  She  and  Nai'da  will  be  in  the  Berkshires ;  I'll  go 
up  and  stay  with  them  later — when  Geraldine  is  all 
right  again,"  he  added  cheerfully. 

Scott,  fidgeting  like  a  neglected  pup,  came  wander 
ing  into  the  hall,  book  in  hand. 

"  For  the  love  of  Mike,"  he  said  impatiently,  "  what 
have  you  two  got  to  talk  about  all  night?  " 

"  My  son,"  observed  Duane,  "  there  are  a  few  sub 
jects  for  conversation  which  do  not  include  the  centi 
pede  and  the  polka-dotted  dickey-bird.  These  subjects 
Kathleen  and  I  furtively  indulge  in  when  we  can  ar 
range  to  elude  you." 

19  279 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Scott  covered  a  yawn  and  glanced  at  Kathleen. 

"  Is  Geraldine  all  right  ?  "  he  asked  with  all  the 
healthy  indifference  of  a  young  man  who  had  never 
been  ill,  and  was,  therefore,  incapable  of  understanding 
illness  in  others. 

"  Certainly,  she's  all  right,"  said  Duane.  And  to 
Kathleen :  "  I  believe  I'll  venture  to  knock  at  her 
door " 

"  Oh,  no,  Duane.  She  isn't  ready  to  see  any 
body " 

"  Well,  I'll  try " 

"  Please,  don't !  " 

But  he  had  her  at  a  disadvantage,  and  he  only 
laughed  and  mounted  the  stairs,  saying: 

"  I'll  just  exchange  a  word  with  her  or  with  her 
maid,  anyway." 

When  he  turned  into  the  corridor  Geraldine's  maid, 
seated  in  the  window-seat  sewing,  rose  and  came  for 
ward  to  take  his  message.  In  a  few  moments  she  re 
turned,  saying: 

"  Miss  Seagrave  asks  to  be  excused,  as  she  is  ready 
to  retire." 

"  Ask  Miss  Seagrave  if  I  can  say  good-night  to  her 
through  the  door." 

The  maid  disappeared  and  returned  in  a  moment. 

"  Miss  Seagrave  wishes  you  good-night,  sir." 

So  he  thanked  the  maid  pleasantly  and  walked  to 
his  own  room,  now  once  more  prepared  for  him  after 
the  departure  of  those  who  had  temporarily  required  it. 

Starlight  made  the  leaded  windows  brilliant;  he 
opened  them  wide  and  leaned  out  on  the  sill,  arms  folded. 
The  pale  astral  light  illuminated  a  fairy  world  of 
meadow  and  garden  and  spectral  trees,  and  two  figures 
moving  like  ghosts  down  by  the  fountain  among  the 

280 


THE   LOVE   OF   THE   GODS 

roses — Rosalie  and  Grandcourt  pacing  the  gravel  paths 
shoulder  to  shoulder  under  the  stars. 

Below  him,  on  the  terrace,  he  saw  Kathleen  and 
Scott — the  latter  carrying  a  butterfly  net — examining 
the  borders  of  white  pinks  with  a  lantern.  In  and  out 
of  the  yellow  rays  swam  multitudes  of  night  moths, 
glittering  like  flakes  of  tinsel  as  the  lantern  light  flashed 
on  their  wings ;  and  Scott  was  evidently  doing  satis 
factory  execution,  for  every  moment  or  two  Kathleen 
uncorked  the  cyanide  jar  and  he  dumped  into  it  from 
the  folds  of  the  net  a  fluttering  victim. 

"  That  last  one  is  a  Pandorus  Sphinx ! "  he  said  in 
great  excitement  to  Kathleen,  who  had  lifted  the  big 
glass  jar  into  the  lantern  light  and  was  trying  to  get 
a  glimpse  of  the  exquisite  moth,  whose  wings  of  olive 
green,  rose,  and  bronze  velvet  were  already  beating  a 
hazy  death  tattoo  in  the  lethal  fumes. 

"  A  Pandorus !  Scott,  you've  wanted  one  so 
much !  "  she  exclaimed,  enchanted. 

"  You  bet  I  have.  Pholus  pandorus  is  pretty  rare 
around  here.  And  I  say,  Kathleen,  that  wasn't  a  bad 
net-stroke,  was  it?  You  see  I  had  only  a  second,  and 
I  took  a  desperate  chance." 

She  praised  his  skill  warmly ;  then,  as  he  stood  ad 
miring  his  prize  in  the  jar  which  she  held  up,  she  sud 
denly  caught  him  by  the  arm  and  pointed: 

"  Oh,  quick !  There  is  a  hawk-moth  over  the  pinks 
which  resembles  nothing  we  have  seen  yet ! " 

Scott  very  cautiously  laid  his  net  level,  stole  for 
ward,  shining  the  lantern  light  full  on  the  darting, 
hazy-winged  creature,  which  was  now  poised,  hovering 
over  a  white  blossom  and  probing  the  honeyed  depths 
with  a  long,  slim  proboscis. 

"  I  thought  it  might  be  only  a  Lineata,  but  it  isn't," 
281 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


he  said  excitedly.  "  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  timid 
moth?  The  slightest  step  scares  the  creature." 

"  Can't  you  try  a  quick  net-stroke  sideways  ?  " 

Her  voice  was  as  anxious  and  unsteady  as  his  own. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  miss.  Lord  but  it's  a  lightning 
flier!  Where  is  it  now?  " 

"  Behind  you.     Do  be  careful !    Turn  very  slowly." 

He  pivoted;  the  slim  moth  darted  past,  circled,  and 
hung  before  a  blossom,  wings  vibrating  so  fast  that  the 
creature  was  merely  a  gray  blur  in  the  lantern  light. 
The  next  instant  Gray's  net  swung ;  a  furious  flutter 
ing  came  from  the  green  silk  folds ;  Kathleen  whipped 
off  the  cover  of  the  jar,  and  Duane  deftly  imprisoned 
the  moth. 

"  Upon  my  word,"  he  said  shakily,  "  I  believe  I've 
got  a  Tersa  Sphinx ! — a  sub-tropical  fellow  whose  pres 
ence  here  is  mere  accident !  " 

"  Oh,  if  you  have !  "  she  breathed  softly.  She  didn't 
know  what  a  Tersa  Sphinx  might  be,  but  if  its  capture 
gave  him  pleasure,  that  was  all  she  cared  for  in  the 
world. 

"  It  is  a  Tersa !  "  he  almost  shouted.  "  By  George ! 
it's  a  wonder." 

Radiant,  she  bent  eagerly  above  the  jar  where  the 
strange,  slender,  gray-and-brown  hawk-moth  lay  dying. 
Its  recoiling  proboscis  and  its  slim,  fawn-coloured 
legs  quivered.  The  eyes  glowed  like  tiny  jewels. 

"  If  we  could  only  keep  these  little  things  alive," 
she  sighed ;  then,  fearful  of  taking  the  least  iota  from 
his  pleasure,  added :  "  but  of  course  we  can't,  and  for 
scientific  purposes  it's  all  right  to  let  the  lovely  little 
creatures  sink  into  their  death-sleep." 

A  slight  haze  had  appeared  over  the  lake ;  a  sudden 
cool  streak  grew  in  the  air,  which  very  quickly  cleared 

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THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

the  flower-beds  of  moths ;  and  the  pretty  sub-tropical 
sphinx  was  the  last  specimen  of  the  evening. 

In  the  library  Scott  pulled  out  a  card-table  and 
Kathleen  brought  forceps,  strips  of  oiled  paper,  pins, 
setting-blocks,  needles,  and  oblong  glass  weights ;  and 
together,  seated  opposite  each  other,  they  removed  the 
delicate- winged  contents  of  the  collecting  jar. 

Kathleen's  dainty  fingers  were  very  swift  and  deft 
with  the  forceps.  Scott  watched  her.  She  picked  up 
the  green-and-rose  Pandorus,  laid  it  on  its  back  on  a 
setting-block,  affixed  and  pinned  the  oiled-paper  strips, 
drew  out  the  four  wings  with  the  setting-needle  until 
they  were  symmetrical  and  the  inner  margin  of  the  an 
terior  pair  was  at  right  angles  with  the  body. 

Then  she  arranged  the  legs,  uncoiled  and  set  the 
proboscis,  and  weighted  the  wings  with  heavy  glass 
strips. 

They  worked  rapidly,  happily  there  together,  ex 
changing  views  and  opinions;  and  after  a  while  the 
brilliant  spoils  of  the  evening  were  all  stretched  and 
ready  to  dry,  ultimately  to  be  placed  in  plaster-of-Paris 
mounts  and  hermetically  sealed  under  glass  covers. 

Kathleen  went  away  to  cleanse  her  hands  of  any 
taint  of  cyanide;  Scott,  returning  from  his  own  ablu 
tions,  met  her  in  the  hall,  and  so  miraculously  youthful, 
so  fresh  and  sweet  and  dainty  did  she  appear  that,  in 
some  inexplicable  manner,  his  awkward,  self-conscious 
fear  of  touching  her  suddenly  vanished,  and  the  next  in 
stant  she  was  in  his  arms  and  he  had  kissed  her. 

"  Scott !  "  she  faltered,  pushing  him  from  her,  too 
limp  and  dazed  to  use  the  strength  she  possessed. 

Surprised  at  what  he  had  done,  amazed  that  he  was 
not  afraid  of  her,  he  held  her  tightly,  thrilled  dumb  at 
the  exquisite  trembling  contact. 

283 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Oh,  what  are  you  doing,"  she  stammered,  in  dire 
consternation ;  "  what  have  you  done  ?  We — you  can 
not — you  must  let  me  go,  Scott " 

"  You're  only  a  girl,  after  all — you  darling !  "  he 
said,  inspecting  her  in  an  ecstacy  of  curiosity.  "  I 
wonder  why  I've  been  afraid  of  you  for  so  long? — just 
because  I  love  you !  " 

"  You  don't — you  can't  care  for  me  that  way " 

"  I  care  for  you  in  every  kind  of  a  way  that  any 
body  can  care  about  anybody."  She  turned  her  shoul 
der,  desperately  striving  to  release  herself,  but  she  had 
not  realised  how  tall  and  strong  he  was.  "  How  small 
you  are,"  he  repeated  wonderingly;  "just  a  soft,  slen 
der  girl,  Kathleen.  I  can't  see  how  I  ever  came  to  let 
you  make  me  study  when  I  didn't  want  to." 

"  Scott,  dear,"  she  pleaded  breathlessly,  "  you  must 
let  me  go.  This — this  is  utterly  impossible " 

"What  is?" 

"  That  you  and  I  can — could  care — this  way " 

"Don't  you?" 

"I— no!" 

"  Is  that  the  truth,  Kathleen?  " 

She  looked  up ;  the  divine  distress  in  her  violet  eyes 
sobered  him,  awed  him  for  a  moment. 

"  Kathleen,"  he  said,  "  there  are  only  a  few  years' 
difference  between  our  ages.  I  feel  older  than  you ;  you 
look  younger  than  I — and  you  are  all  in  the  world  I 
care  for — or  ever  have  cared  for.  Last  spring — that 
night " 

"  Hush,  Scott,"  she  begged,  blushing  scarlet. 

"  I  know  you  remember.  That  is  when  I  began  to 
love  you.  You  must  have  known  it." 

She  said  nothing;  the  strain  of  her  resisting  arms 
against  his  breast  had  relaxed  imperceptibly. 

284 


THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

"  What  can  a  fellow  say  ? "  he  went  on  a  little 
wildly,  checked  at  moments  by  the  dryness  of  his  throat 
and  the  rapid  heartbeats  that  almost  took  his  breath 
away  when  he  looked  at  her.  "  I  love  you  so  dearly, 
Kathleen ;  there's  no  use  in  trying  to  live  without  lov 
ing  you,  for  I  couldn't  do  it!  ...  I'm  not  really 
young ;  it  makes  me  furious  to  think  you  consider  me  in 
that  light.  I'm  a  man,  strong  enough  and  old  enough 
to  love  you — and  make  you  love  me !  I  will  make  you !  " 
His  arms  tightened. 

She  uttered  a  little  cry,  which  was  half  a  sob ;  his 
boyish  roughness  sent  a  glow  rushing  through  her.  She 
fought  against  the  peril  of  it,  the  bewildering  happiness 
that  welled  up — fought  against  her  heart  that  was  be 
traying  her  senses,  against  the  deep,  sweet  passion  that 
awoke  as  his  face  touched  hers. 

"  Will  you  love  me  ?  "  he  said  fiercely. 

"  No ! " 

"Will  you?" 

'*  Yes.  .  .  .  Let  me  go ! "  she  gasped. 

"  Will  you  love  me  in  the  way  I  mean  ?     Can  you  ?  '* 

"  Yes.  I  do.  I — have,  long  since.  .  .  .  Let  me 
go!" 

"  Then — kiss  me." 

She  looked  up  at  him  a  moment,  slowly  put  both 
arms  around  his  neck :  "  Now,"  she  breathed  faintly, 
"  release  me." 

And  at  the  same  instant  he  saw  Geraldine  descend 
ing  the  stairs. 

Kathleen  saw  her,  too;  saw  her  turn  abruptly,  re 
mount  and  disappear.  There  was  a  moment's  painful 
silence,  then,  without  a  word,  she  picked  up  her  lace 
skirts,  ran  up  the  stairway,  and  continued  swiftly  on  to 
Geraldine's  room. 

285 


"  May  I  come  in  ?  "  She  spoke  and  opened  the  door 
of  the  bedroom  at  the  same  time,  and  Geraldine  turned 
on  her,  exasperated,  hands  clenched,  dark  eyes  harbour 
ing  lightning: 

"  Have  I  gone  quite  mad,  Kathleen,  or  have  you?  " 
she  demanded. 

"  I  think  I  have,"  whispered  Kathleen,  turning  white 
and  halting.  "  Geraldine,  you  will  have  to  listen.  Scott 
has  told  me  that  he  loves  me " 

"Is  this  the  first  time?" 

"  No.  ...  It  is  the  first  time  I  have  listened.  I 
can't  think  clearly ;  I  scarcely  know  yet  what  I've  said 
and  done.  What  must  you  think?  .  .  .  But  won't  you 
be  a  little  gentle  with  me — a  little  forbearing — in  mem 
ory  of  what  I  have  been  to  you — to  him — so  long?  " 

"What  do  you  wish  me  to  think?  "  asked  the  girl 
in  a  hard  voice.  "  My  brother  is  of  age ;  he  will  do 
what  he  pleases,  I  suppose.  I — I  don't  know  what  to 
think;  this  has  astounded  me.  I  never  dreamed  such 
a  thing  possible " 

"  Nor  I — until  this  spring.  I  know  it  is  all  wrong ; 
this  is  making  me  more  fearfully  unhappy  every  min 
ute  I  live.  There  is  nothing  but  peril  in  it;  the  dis 
crepancy  in  our  ages  makes  it  hazardous — his  youth, 
his  overwhelming  fortune,  my  position  and  means — the 
world  will  surely,  surely  misinterpret,  misunderstand — 
I  think  even  you,  his  sister,  may  be  led  to  credit — what, 
in  your  own  heart,  you  must  know  to  be  utterly  and 
cruelly  untrue." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say  or  think,"  repeated  Ger 
aldine  in  a  dull  voice.  "  I  can't  realise  it ;  I  thought 
that  our  affection  for  you  was  so — so  utterly  different." 

She  stared  curiously  at  Kathleen,  trying  to  recon 
cile  what  she  had  always  known  of  her  with  what  she 

286 


THE   LOVE   OF   THE   GODS 

now  had  to  reckon  with — strove  to  find  some  alteration 
in  the  familiar  features,  something  that  she  had  never 
before  noticed,  some  new,  unsuspected  splendour  of 
beauty  and  charm,  some  undetected  and  subtle  allure. 
She  saw  only  a  wholesome,  young,  and  lovely  woman, 
fresh-skinned,  slender,  sweet,  and  graceful — the  same 
companion  she  had  always  known  and,  as  she  remem 
bered,  unchanged  in  any  way  since  the  years  of  child 
hood,  when  Kathleen  was  twenty  and  she  and  her 
brother  were  ten. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  if  Scott  is  in  love  with 
you,  there  is  only  one  thing  to  do." 

"  There  are  several,"  said  Kathleen  in  a  low  voice. 

"  Will  you  not  marry  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  think  not." 

"  Are  you  not  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  Does  that  matter  ? "  asked  Kathleen  steadily. 
"  Scott's  happiness  is  what  is  important." 

"  But  his  happiness,  apparently,  depends  on  you." 

Kathleen  flushed  and  looked  at  her  curiously. 

"  Dear,  if  I  knew  that  was  so,  I  would  give  myself 
to  him.  Neither  you  nor  he  have  ever  asked  anything 
of  me  in  vain.  Even  if  I  did  not  love  him — as  I  do — and 
he  needed  me,  I  would  give  myself  to  him.  You  and  he 
have  been  all  there  was  in  life  for  me.  But  I  am  afraid 
that  I  may  not  always  be  all  that  life  holds  for  him. 
He  is  young;  he  has  had  no  chance  yet;  he  has  had 
little  experience  with  women.  I  think  he  ought  to  have 
his  chance." 

She  might  have  said  the  same  thing  of  herself.  A 
bride  at  her  husband's  death-bed,  widowed  before  she 
had  ever  been  a  wife,  what  experience  had  she?  All  her 
life  so  far  had  been  devoted  to  the  girl  who  stood  there 
confronting  her,  and  to  the  brother.  What  did  she 
20  287 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


know  of  .men? — of  whether  she  might  be  capable  of  lov 
ing  some  man  more  suitable?  She  had  not  given  her 
self  the  chance.  She  never  would,  now. 

There  was  no  selfishness  in  Kathleen  Severn.  But 
there  was  much  in  the  Seagrave  twins.  The  very  method 
of  their  bringing  up  inculcated  it;  they  had  never  had 
any  chance  to  be  otherwise.  The  "  cultiwation  of  the 
indiwidool  "  had  driven  it  into  them,  taught  them  the 
deification  of  self,  forced  them  to  consider  their  own 
importance  above  anything  else  in  the  world. 

And  it  was  of  that  importance  that  Geraldine  was 
now  thinking  as  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  her  bed,  darkly 
considering  these  new  problems  that  chance  was  laying 
before  her  one  by  one. 

If  Scott  was  going  to  be  unhappy  without  Kath 
leen,  it  followed,  as  a  matter  of  course,  that  he  must 
have  Kathleen.  The  chances  Kathleen  might  take,  what 
she  might  have  to  endure  of  the  world's  malice  and  gos 
sip  and  criticism,  never  entered  Geraldine's  mind  at  all. 

"  If  he  is  in  love  with  you,"  she  repeated,  "  it  settles 
it,  I  think.  What  else  is  there  to  do  but  marry  him?  " 

Kathleen  shook  her  head.  "  I  shall  do  what  is  best 
for  him — whatever  that  may  be." 

"  You  won't  make  him  unhappy,  I  suppose?  "  in 
quired  Geraldine,  astonished. 

"  Dear,  a  woman  may  be  truer  to  the  man  she  loves 
— and  kinder — by  refusing  him.  Is  not  that  what  you 
have  done — for  Duane's  sake?  " 

Geraldine  sprang  to  her  feet,  face  white,  mouth  dis 
torted  with  anger: 

"  I  made  a  god  of  Duane !  "  she  broke  out  breath 
lessly.  "  Everything  that  was  in  me — everything  that 
was  decent  and  unselfish  and  pure-minded  dominated 
me  when  I  found  I  loved  him.  So  I  would  not  listen 

288 


THE   LOVE    OF    THE    GODS 

to  my  own  desire  for  him,  I  would  not  let  him  risk  a 
terrible  unhappiness  until  I  could  go  to  him  as  clean 
and  well  and  straight  and  unafraid  as  he  could  wish !  " 
She  laughed  bitterly,  and  laid  her  hands  on  her  breast. 
"  Look  at  me,  Kathleen !  I  am  quite  as  decent  as  this 
god  of  mine.  Why  should  I  worry  over  the  chances 
he  takes  when  I  have  chances  enough  to  take  in  marry 
ing  him?  I  was  stupid  to  be  so  conscientious — I  be 
haved  like  a  hysterical  schoolgirl — or  a  silly  communi 
cant — making  him  my  confessor!  A  girl  is  a  perfect 
fool  to  make  a  god  out  of  a  man.  I  made  one  out  of 
Duane ;  and  he  acted  like  one.  It  nearly  ended  me,  but, 
after  all,  he  is  no  worse  than  I.  Whoever  it  was  who 
said  that  decency  is  only  depravity  afraid,  is  right.  I 
am  depraved;  I  am  afraid.  I'm  afraid  that  I  cannot 
control  myself,  for  one  thing;  and  I'm  afraid  of  being 
unhappy  for  life  if  I  don't  marry  Duane.  And  I'm 
going  to,  and  let  him  take  his  chances ! " 

Kathleen,  very  pale,  said :  "  That  is  selfishness — if 
you  do  it." 

"  Are  not  men  selfish?  He  will  not  tell  me  as  much 
of  his  life  as  I  have  told  him  of  mine.  I  have  told  him 
everything.  How  do  I  know  what  risk  I  run?  Yes — 
I  do  know ;  I  take  the  risk  of  marrying  a  man  notorious 
for  his  facility  with  women.  And  he  lets  me  take  that 
risk.  Why  should  I  not  let  him  risk  something?  " 

The  girl  seemed  strangely  excited ;  her  quick  breath 
ing  and  bright,  unsteady  eyes  betrayed  the  nervous  ten 
sion  of  the  last  few  days.  She  said  feverishly : 

"  There  is  a  lot  of  nonsense  talked  about  self-sacri 
fice  and  love;  about  the  beauties  of  abnegation  and 
martyrdom,  but,  Kathleen,  if  I  shall  ever  need  him  at 
all,  I  need  him  now.  I'm  afraid  to  be  alone  any  longer ; 
I'm  frightened  at  the  chances  against  me.  Do  you  know 

289 


what  these  days  of  horror  have  been  to  me,  locked  in 
here — all  alone — in  the  depths  of  degradation  for  what 
— what  I  did  that  night — in  distress  and  shame  unut 
terable " 

"  My  darling " 

"  Wait !  I  had  more  to  endure — I  had  to  en 
dure  the  results  of  my  education  in  the  study  of  man ! 
I  had  to  realise  that  I  loved  one  of  them  who  has  done 
enough  to  annihilate  in  me  anything  except  love.  I 
had  to  learn  that  he  couldn't  kill  that — that  I  want  him 
in  spite  of  it,  that  I  need  him,  that  my  heart  is  sick 
with  dread;  that  he  can  have  me  when  he  will —  Oh, 
Kathleen,  I  have  learned  to  care  less  for  him  than  when 
I  denied  him  for  his  own  sake — more  for  him  than  I  did 
before  he  held  me  in  his  arms !  And  that  is  not  a  high 
type  of  love — I  know  it — but  oh,  if  I  could  only  have 
his  arms  around  me — if  I  could  rest  there  for  a  while 
— and  not  feel  so  frightened,  so  utterly  alone ! — I  might 
win  out ;  I  might  kill  what  is  menacing  me,  with  God's 
help — and  his !  " 

She  lay  shivering  on  Kathleen's  breast  now,  dry- 
eyed,  twisting  her  ringless  fingers  in  dumb  anguish. 

"  Darling,  darling,"  murmured  Kathleen,  "  you 
cannot  do  this  thing.  You  cannot  let  him  assume  a 
burden  that  is  yours  alone." 

"  Why  not  ?    What  is  one's  lover  for  ?  " 

"  Not  to  use ;  not  to  hazard ;  not  to  be  made  re 
sponsible  for  a  sick  mind  and  a  will  already  demoral 
ised.  Is  it  fair  to  ask  him — to  let  him  begin  life  with 
such  a  burden — such  a  handicap?  Is  it  not  braver, 
fairer,  to  fight  it  out  alone,  eradicate  what  threatens 
you — oh,  my  own  darling!  my  little  Geraldine! — is  it 
not  fairer  to  the  man  you  love?  Is  he  not  worth  striv 
ing  for,  suffering  for?  Have  you  no  courage  to  endure 

290 


if  he  is  to  be  the  reward?  Is  a  little  selfish  weakness,  a 
miserable  self-indulgence  to  stand  between  you  and  life 
long  happiness  ?  " 

Geraldine  looked  up ;  her  face  was  very  white : 

"  Have  you  ever  been  tempted  ?  " 

"  Have  I  not  been  to-night  ?  " 

"  I  mean  by — something  ignoble  ?  " 

"  No." 

"Do  you  know  how  it  hurts?" 

"  To— to  deny  yourself?  " 

"  Yes.  ...  It  is  so  —  difficult  —  it  makes  me 
wretchedly  weak.  ...  I  only  thought  he  might  help 
me.  .  .  .  You  are  right,  Kathleen.  ...  I  must  be 
terribly  demoralised  to  have  wished  it.  I — I  will  not 
marry  him,  now.  I  don't  think  I  ever  will.  .  .  .  You 
are  right.  I  have  got  to  be  fair  to  him,  no  matter  what 
he  has  been  to  me.  .  .  .  He  has  been  fearfully  unfair. 
After  all,  he  is  only  a  man.  ...  I  couldn't  really  love 
a  god." 


CHAPTER    XIII 

AMBITIONS    AND    LETTERS 

ROSALIE  had  departed;  Grandcourt  followed  suit 
next  day;  Sylvia's  brother,  Stuyvesant,  had  at  last 
found  a  sober  moment  at  his  disposal  and  had  appeared 
at  Roya-Neh  and  taken  his  sister  away.  Duane  was 
all  ready  to  go  to  New  York  to  find  out  whether  his 
father  was  worrying  over  anything,  as  the  tone  of  his 
letters  indicated. 

The  day  he  left,  Kathleen  and  Geraldine  started  on 
a  round  of  August  house  parties,  ranging  from  Lenox 
to  Long  Island,  including  tiresome  week  ends  and  duty 
visits  to  some  very  unpretentious  but  highly  intellectual 
relatives  of  Mrs.  Severn.  So  Scott  remained  in  solitary 
possession  of  Roya-Neh,  with  its  forests,  gardens,  pas 
tures,  lakes  and  streams,  and  a  staggering  payroll  and 
all  the  multiplicity  of  problems  that  such  responsibility 
entails.  Which  pleased  him  immensely,  except  for  the 
departure  of  Kathleen. 

To  play  the  intellectual  country  squire  had  been  all 
he  desired  on  earth  except  Kathleen.  From  the  begin 
ning  White's  "  Selborne  "  had  remained  his  model  for 
all  books,  Kathleen  for  all  women.  He  was  satisfied 
with  these  two  components  of  perfect  happiness,  and 
with  himself,  as  he  was,  for  the  third  ingredient  in  a 
contented  and  symmetrical  existence. 

He  had  accepted  his  answer  from  her  with  more 
philosophy  than  she  quite  expected  or  was  prepared 

292 


AMBITIONS   AND   LETTERS 

for,  saying  that  if  she  made  a  particular  point  of  it  he 
would  go  about  next  winter  and  give  himself  a  chance  to 
meet  as  many  desirable  young  girls  as  she  thought 
best ;  that  it  was  merely  wasting  time,  but  if  it  made  her 
any  happier,  he'd  wait  and  endeavour  to  return  to  their 
relations  of  unsentimental  comradeship  until  she  was 
satisfied  he  knew  his  mind. 

Kathleen  was,  at  first,  a  little  dismayed  at  his  com 
placency.  It  was  only  certainty  of  himself.  At  twenty- 
two  there  is  time  for  anything,  and  the  vista  of  life 
ahead  is  endless.  And  there  was  one  thing  more  which 
Kathleen  did  not  know.  Under  the  covering  of  this 
Seagrave  complacency  and  self-centred  sufficiency,  all 
alone  by  itself  was  developing  the  sprouting  germ  of 
consideration  for  others. 

How  it  started  he  himself  did  not  know — nor  was  he 
even  aware  that  it  had  started.  But  long,  solitary 
rambles  and  the  quiet  contemplation  of  other  things  be 
sides  himself  had  awakened  first  curiosity,  then  a  dawn 
ing  suspicion  of  the  rights  of  others. 

In  the  silence  of  forests  it  is  difficult  to  preserve 
complacency ;  under  the  stars  modesty  is  born. 

It  began  to  occur  to  him,  by  degrees,  that  his  own 
personal  importance  among  his  kind  might  be  due,  in 
part,  to  his  fortune.  And  from  the  first  invasion  of 
that  shocking  idea  matters  progressed  rather  rapidly 
with  the  last  of  the  Seagraves. 

He  said  uneasily  to  Duane,  once :  "  Are  you  going 
in  seriously  for  painting?  " 

"  I  am  in,"  observed  Duane  drily. 

"Professionally?" 

"  Sure  thing.    God  hates  an  amateur." 

"  What  are  you  after?  "  persisted  Scott.   "  Fame?  " 

"  Yes ;  I  need  it  in  my  business." 
293 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Are  you  contemplating  a  velvet  coat  and  bow  tie, 
and  a  bunch  of  the  elect  at  your  heels  ? — ratty  men,  and 
pop-eyed  young  women  whose  coiffure  needs  weeding?  " 

Duane  laughed.  "  Are  they  any  more  deadly  than 
our  own  sort?  Why  endure  either?  Because  you  are 
developing  into  a  country  squire,  you  don't  have  to 
marry  Maud  Muller."  And  he  quoted  Bret  Harte: 

"  For  there  be  women  fair  as  she, 
Whose  verbs  and  nouns  do  more  agree." 

"  You  don't  have  to  wallow  in  a  profession,  you 
know." 

"  But  why  the  mischief  do  you  want  to  paint  pro 
fessionally?  "  inquired  Scott,  with  unsatisfied  curiosity. 
"  It  isn't  avarice,  is  it?  " 

"  I  expect  to  hold  out  for  what  my  pictures  are 
worth,  if  that's  what  you  mean  by  avarice.  What  I'm 
trying  to  do,"  added  Duane,  striking  his  palm  with  his 
fist  as  emphasis,  "  is  not  to  die  the  son  of  a  wealthy 
man.  If  I  can't  be  anything  more,  I'm  not  worth  a 
damn.  But  I'm  going  to  be.  I  can  do  it,  Scott;  I'm 
lazy,  I'm  undecided,  I've  a  weak  streak.  And  yet,  do 
you  know,  with  all  my  blemishes,  all  my  misgivings,  all 
my  discouragements,  panics,  despondent  moments,  I 
am,  way  down  inside,  serenely  and  unaccountably  cer 
tain  that  I  can  paint  like  the  devil,  and  that  I  am  going 
to  do  it.  That  sounds  cheeky,  doesn't  it  ?  " 

"  It  sounds  all  right  to  me,"  said  Scott.  And  he 
walked  away  thoughtfully,  fists  dug  deep  in  his  pockets. 

And  one  still,  sunny  afternoon,  standing  alone  on 
the  dry  granite  crags  of  the  Golden  Dome,  he  looked 
up  and  saw,  a  quarter  of  a  million  miles  above  him,  the 
moon's  ghost  swimming  in  azure  splendour.  Then  he 

294 


AMBITIONS   AND   LETTERS 

looked  down  and  saw  the  map  of  the  earth  below  him, 
where  his  forests  spread  out  like  moss,  and  his  lakes 
mirrored  the  clouds,  and  a  river  belonging  to  him 
traced  its  course  across  the  valley  in  a  single  silver 
thread.  And  a  slight  blush  stung  his  face  at  the 
thought  that,  without  any  merit  or  endeavour  of  his 
own,  his  money  had  bought  it  all — his  money,  that  had 
always  acted  as  his  deputy,  fought  for  him,  conquered 
for  him,  spoken  for  him,  vouched  for  him — perhaps 
pleaded  for  him ! — he  shivered,  and  suddenly  he  realised 
that  this  golden  voice  was,  in  fact,  all  there  was  to  him. 

What  had  he  to  identify  him  on  earth  among  man 
kind?  Only  his  money.  Wherein  did  he  differ  from 
other  men  ?  He  had  more  money.  What  had  he  to  offer 
as  excuse  for  living  at  all?  Money.  What  had  he 
done?  Lived  on  it,  by  it.  Why,  then,  it  was  the  money 
that  was  entitled  to  distinction,  and  he  figured  only  as 
its  parasite!  Then  he  was  nothing — even  a  little  less. 
In  the  world  there  was  man  and  there  was  money.  It 
seemed  that  he  was  a  little  lower  in  the  scale  than  either ; 
a  parasite — scarcely  a  thing  of  distinction  to  offer 
Kathleen  Severn. 

Very  seriously  he  looked  up  at  the  moon. 

It  was  the  day  following  his  somewhat  disordered 
and  impassioned  declaration.  He  expected  to  receive 
his  answer  that  evening ;  and  he  descended  the  mountain 
in  a  curiously  uncertain  and  perplexed  state  of  mind 
which  at  times  bordered  on  a  modesty  painfully  akin  to 
humbleness. 

Meanwhile,  Duane  was  preparing  to  depart  on  the 
morrow.  And  that  evening  he  also  was  to  have  his 
definite  answer  to  the  letter  which  Kathleen  had  taken 
to  Geraldine  Seagrave  that  morning. 

"  Dear,"  he  had  written,  "  I  once  told  you  that  my 
295 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


weakness  needed  the  aid  of  all  that  is  best  in  you ;  that 
yours  required  the  best  of  courage  and  devotion  that  lies 
in  me.  It  is  surely  so.  Together  we  conquer  the  world 
— which  is  ourselves. 

"  For  the  little  things  that  seem  to  threaten  our 
separation  do  not  really  alarm  me.  Even  if  I  actually 
committed  the  inconsequential  and  casual  thing  that  so 
abruptly  and  so  deeply  offended  you,  there  remains 
enough  soundness  in  me  at  the  core  to  warrant  your 
charity  and  repay,  in  a  measure,  your  forgiveness  and 
a  renewal  of  your  interest  in  my  behalf. 

"  Search  your  heart,  Geraldine ;  question  your  intel 
ligence  ;  both  will  tell  you  that  I  am  enough  of  a  man  to 
dare  love  you.  And  it  takes  something  of  a  man  to 
dare  do  it. 

"  There  is  a  thing  that  I  might  say  which  would  con 
vince  you,  even  against  the  testimony  of  your  own  eyes, 
that  never  in  deed  or  in  thought  have  I  been  really  dis 
loyal  to  you  since  you  gave  me  your  heart.  .  .  .  Yet  I 
must  not  say  it.  ...  Can  you  summon  sufficient  faith 
in  me  to  accept  that  statement — against  the  evidence  of 
those  two  divine  witnesses  which  condemn  me — your 
eyes?  Circumstantial  evidence  is  no  good  in  this  case, 
dear.  I  can  say  no  more  than  that. 

"  Dearest,  what  can  compare  to  the  disaster  of  losing 
each  other? 

"  I  ask  you  to  let  me  have  the  right  to  stand  by  you 
in  your  present  distress  and  despondency.  What  am  I 
for  if  not  for  such  moments? 

"  That  night  you  were  closer  to  the  danger  mark 
than  you  have  ever  been.  I  know  that  my  conduct — at 
least  your  interpretation  of  it — threw  you,  for  the  mo 
ment  off  your  guarded  balance ;  but  that  your  attitude 
toward  such  a  crisis — your  solution  of  such  a  situation 

296 


AMBITIONS   AND    LETTERS 

— should  be  a  leap  forward  toward  self-destruction — 
a  reckless  surrender  to  anger  and  blind  impulse,  only 
makes  me  the  more  certain  that  we  need  each  other 
now  if  ever. 

"  The  silent,  lonely,  forlorn  battle  that  has  been 
going  on  behind  the  door  of  your  room  and  the  doors 
of  your  heart  during  these  last  few  days,  is  more  than  I 
can  well  endure.  Open  both  doors  to  me;  leagued  we 
can  win  through ! 

"  Give  me  the  right  to  be  with  you  by  night  as  well 
as  by  daylight,  and  we  two  shall  stand  together  and  see 
'  the  day  break  and  the  shadows  flee  away.' ' 

That  same  evening  his  reply  came : 

"  My  darling,  Kathleen  will  give  you  this.  I  don't 
care  what  my  eyes  saw  if  you  tell  me  it  isn't  true.  I 
have  loved  you,  anyway,  all  the  while — even  with  my 
throat  full  of  tears  and  my  mouth  bitter  with  anger,  and 
my  heart  torn  into  several  thousand  tatters — oh,  it  is 
not  very  difficult  to  love  you,  Duane ;  the  only  trouble 
is  to  love  you  in  the  right  way ;  which  is  hard,  dear,  be 
cause  I  want  you  so  much;  and  it  so  new  to  me  to  be 
unselfish.  I  began  to  learn  by  loving  you. 

"  Which  means,  that  I  will  not  let  you  take  the  risk 
you  ask  for.  Give  me  time ;  I've  fought  it  off  since  that 
miserable  night.  Heaven  alone  knows  why  I  surren 
dered — turning  to  my  deadly  enemy  for  countenance 
and  comfort  to  support  my  childish  and  contemptible 
anger  against  you. 

"  Duane,  there  is  an  evil  streak  in  me,  and  we  both 
must  reckon  with  it.  Long,  long  before  I  knew  I  loved 
you,  things  you  said  and  did  often  wounded  me;  and 
within  me  a  perfectly  unreasoning  desire  to  hurt  you — 
to  make  you  suffer — always  flamed  up  and  raged. 

"  I  think  that  was  partly  what  made  me  do  what  you 
297 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


know  I  did  that  night.  It  would  hurt  you ;  that  was  my 
ignoble  instinct.  God  knows  whether  it  was  also  a  hid 
eous  sort  of  excuse  for  my  weakness — for  I  was  blazing 
hot  after  the  last  dance — and  the  gaiety  and  uproar  and 
laughter  all  overexcited  me — and  then  what  I  had  seen 
you  do,  and  your  not  coming  to  me,  and  that  ominous 
uneasy  impulse  stirring! 

"  That  is  the  truth  as  I  analyse  it.  The  dreadful 
thing  is  that  I  could  have  been  capable  of  dealing  our 
chance  of  happiness  such  a  cowardly  blow. 

"  Well,  it  is  over.  The  thing  has  fled  for  a  while.  I 
fought  it  down,  stamped  on  it  with  utter  horror  and 
loathing.  It — the  encounter — tired  me.  I  am  weary 
yet — from  honourable  wounds.  But  I  won  out.  If  it 
comes  back  again — Oh,  Duane!  and  it  surely  will — I 
shall  face  it  undaunted  once  more;  and  every  hydra- 
head  that  stirs  I  shall  kill  until  the  thing  lies  dead  be 
tween  us  for  all  time. 

"  Then,  dear,  will  you  take  the  girl  who  has  done 
this  thing? 

"  GERALDINE  SEAGEAVE." 

This  was  his  answer  on  the  eve  of  his  departure. 

And  on  the  morning  of  it  Geraldine  came  down  to 
say  good-bye ;  a  fresh,  sweet,  and  bewildering  Geraldine, 
somewhat  slimmer  than  when  he  had  last  seen  her,  a  little 
finer  in  feature,  more  delicate  of  body;  and  there  was 
about  her  even  a  hint  of  the  spirituel  as  a  fascinating 
trace  of  what  she  had  been  through,  locked  in  alone 
behind  the  doors  of  her  room  and  heart. 

She  bade  him  good-morning  somewhat  shyly,  offer 
ing  her  slim  hand  and  looking  at  him  with  the  slight 
uncertainty  and  bent  brows  of  a  person  coming  sud 
denly  into  a  strong  light. 

298 


AMBITIONS   AND   LETTERS 

He  said  under  his  breath :  "  You  poor  darling,  how 
thin  you  are." 

"  Athletics,"  she  said ;  "  Jacob  wrestled  with  an 
angel,  but  you  know  what  I've  been  facing  in  the 
squared  circle.  Don't  speak  of  it  any  more,  will  you? 
.  .  .  How  sunburned  you  are!  What  have  you  been 
about  since  I've  kept  to  my  room  ?  " 

"  I've  painted  Miller's  kids  in  the  open ;  I  suppose 
the  terrific  influence  of  Sorolla  has  me  in  bondage  for 
the  moment."  He  laughed  easily :  "  But  don't  worry ; 
it  will  leave  nothing  except  clean  inspiration  behind 
it.  I'll  think  out  my  own  way — grope  it  out  through 
Pantheon  and  living  maze.  All  I've  really  got  to 
say  in  paint  can  be  said  only  in  my  own  way.  I  know 
that,  even  when  realising  that  I've  been  sunstruck  by 
Sorolla." 

She  listened  demurely,  watching  him,  her  lips  sensi 
tive  with  understanding;  and  she  laughed  when  he 
laughed  away  his  fealty  to  the  superb  Spaniard,  know 
ing  himself  and  the  untried  strength  within  him. 

"  But  when  are  you  coming  back  to  us,  Duane?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Father's  letters  perplex  me.  I'll 
write  you  every  day,  of  course." 

A  quick  colour  tinted  her  skin: 

"  And  I  will  write  you  every  day.  I  will  begin  to 
day.  Kathleen  and  I  expect  to  be  here  in  September. 
But  you  will  come  back  before  that  and  keep  Scott  com 
pany  ;  won't  you  ?  " 

"  I  want  to  get  into  harness  again,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  I  want  to  settle  down  to  work." 

"  Can't  you  work  here  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well." 

"Why?" 

"To  tell  the  truth,"  he  admitted,  smiling,  "I 
299 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


require    something   more    like    a   working    studio    than 
Miller's  garret." 

"That's  what  I  thought,"  she  said  shyly,  "and 
Scott  and  I  have  the  plans  for  a  studio  all  ready ;  and 
the  men  are  to  begin  Monday,  and  Miller  is  to  take  the 
new  gate  cottage.  Oh,  the  plans  are  really  very  won 
derful  ! "  she  added  hastily,  as  Duane  looked  grateful 
but  dubious.  "  Rollins  and  Calvert  drew  them.  I  wrote 
to  Billy  Calvert  and  sent  him  the  original  plans  for 
Hurryon  Lodge.  Duane,  I  thought  it  would  please 

you " 

"  It  does,  you  dear,  generous  girl !  I'm  a  trifle  over 
whelmed,  that's  all  my  silence  meant.  You  ought  not  to 
do  this  for  me " 

"  Why  ?  Aren't  we  to  be  as  near  each  other  as  we 
can  be  until — I  am  ready — for  something — closer  ?  " 

"  Yes.  .  .  .  Certainly.  .  .  .  I'll  arrange  to  work 
out  certain  things  up  here.  As  for  models,  if  there  is 
nothing  suitable  at  Westgate  village,  you  won't  mind  my 
importing  some,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  becoming  very  serious  and  gravely 
interested,  as  befitted  the  fiancee  of  a  painter  of  conse 
quence.  "  You  will  do  what  is  necessary,  of  course ; 
because  I — few  girls — are  accustomed  in  the  beginning 
to  the  details  of  such  a  profession  as  yours ;  and  I'm 
very  ignorant,  Duane,  and  I  must  learn  how  to  second 
you — intelligently  " — she  blushed — "  that  is,  if  I'm 
to  amount  to  anything  as  an  artist's  wife." 

"  You  dear !  "  he  whispered. 

"  No ;  I  tell  you  I  am  totally  ignorant.  A  studio  is 
an  awesome  place  to  me.  I  merely  know  enough  to  keep 
out  of  it  when  you  are  using  models.  That  is  safest, 
isn't  it?" 

He  said,  intensely  amused :  "  It  might  be  safer 
300 


AMBITIONS   AND   LETTERS 

not   to  give  pink  teas  while  I  am  working  from  the 
nude." 

"  Duane !  Do  you  think  me  a  perfect  ninny  ?  Any 
way,  you're  not  always  painting  Venus  and  Ariadne 
and  horrid  Leilas,  are  you?  " 

"  Not  always !  "  he  managed  to  assure  her ;  and  her 
pretty,  confused  laughter  mingled  with  his  unembar 
rassed  mirth  as  the  motor-car  swung  up  to  carry  him 
and  his  traps  to  the  station. 

They  said  good-bye;  her  dark  eyes  became  very 
tragic;  her  lips  threatened  to  escape  control. 

Kathleen  turned  away,  mano3uvring  Scott  out  of  ear 
shot,  who  knowing  nothing  of  any  situation  between 
Duane  and  his  sister,  protested  mildly,  but  forgot  when 
Kathleen  led  him  to  an  orange-underwing  moth  asleep 
on  the  stone  coping  of  the  terrace. 

And  when  the  unfortunate  Catocala  had  been  safely 
bottled  and  they  stood  examining  it  in  the  library, 
Scott's  rapidly  diminishing  conceit  found  utterance: 

"  I  say,  Kathleen,  it's  all  very  well  for  me  to  collect 
these  fascinating  things,  but  any  ass  can  do  that.  One 
can't  make  a  particular  name  for  one's  self  by  doing 
what  a  lot  of  cleverer  men  have  already  done,  and  what 
a  lot  of  idle  idiots  are  imitating." 

She  raised  her  violet  eyes,  astonished: 

"  Do  you  want  to  make  a  name  for  yourself  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  reddening. 

"Why  not?  I'm  a  nobody.  I'm  worse;  I'm  an 
amateur !  You  ought  to  hear  what  Duane  has  to  say 
about  amateurs ! " 

"  But,  Scott,  you  don't  have  to  be  anything  in  par 
ticular  except  what  you  are " 

"What  am  I?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Why— yourself." 

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THE   DANGER   MARK 


"And  what's  that?"  He  grew  redder.  "  I'll  tell 
you,  Kathleen.  I'm  merely  a  painfully  wealthy  young 
man.  Don't  laugh;  this  is  becoming  deadly  serious  to 
me.  By  my  own  exertions  I've  never  done  one  bally 
thing  either  useful  or  spectacular.  I'm  not  distinguished 
by  anything  except  an  unfair  share  of  wealth.  I'm  not 
eminent,  let  alone  pre-eminent,  even  in  that  sordid  class ; 
there  are  richer  men,  plenty  of  them — some  even  who 
have  made  their  own  fortunes  and  have  not  been  hatched 
out  in  a  suffocating  plethora  of  affluence  like  the  larva 
of  the  Carnifex  tumble-bug " 

"Scott!" 

"  And  I !  "  he  ended  savagely.  "  Why,  I'm  not  even 
pre-eminent  as  far  as  my  position  in  the  social  puddle 
is  concerned;  there  are  sets  that  wouldn't  endure  me; 
there's  at  least  one  club  into  which  I  couldn't  possibly 
wriggle;  there  are  drawing-rooms  where  I  wouldn't  be 
tolerated,  because  I've  nothing  on  earth  to  recommend 
me  or  to  distinguish  me  from  Algernon  FitzNoodle  and 
Montmorency  de  Sansgallette  except  an  inflated  in 
come!  What  have  I  to  offer  anybody  worth  while  for 
entertaining  me?  What  have  I  to  offer  you,  Kathleen, 
in  exchange  for  yourself?  " 

He  was  becoming  boyishly  dramatic  with  sweeping 
gestures  which  amazed  her ;  but  she  was  conscious  that 
it  was  all  sincere  and  very  real  to  him. 

"  Scott,  dear,"  she  began  sweetly,  uncertain  how  to 
take  it  all ;  "  kindness,  loyalty,  and  decent  breeding  are 
all  that  a  woman  cares  for  in  a  man " 

"  You  are  entitled  to  more ;  you  are  entitled  to  a 
man  of  distinction,  of  attainment,  of  achievement " 

"  Few  women  ask  for  that,  Scott ;  few  care  for  it ; 
fewer  still  understand  it " 

"  You  would.  I've  got  a  cheek  to  ask  you  to  marry 
302 


AMBITIONS   AND   LETTERS 

me  —  me!  —  before  I  wear  any  tag  to  identify  me  except 
the  dollar  mark  -  " 

"  Oh,  hush,  Scott  !  You  are  talking  utter  nonsense  ; 
don't  you  know  it  ?  " 

He  made  a  large  and  rather  grandiose  gesture  : 

"  Around  me  lies  opportunity,  Kathleen  —  every 
stone;  every  brook  -  " 

The  mischievous  laughter  of  his  listener  checked 
him.  She  said  :  "  I'm  sorry  ;  only  it  made  me  think  of 

4  Sermons  in  stones, 
Books  in  the  running  brooks,' 

and  the  indignant  gentleman  who  said  :  *  What  damn 
nonsense  !  It's  "  sermons  in  books,  stones  in  the  running 
brooks  !  "  '  Do  go  on,  Scott,  dear,  I  don't  mean  to  be 
frivolous  ;  it  is  fine  of  you  to  wish  for  fame  -  " 

"  It  isn't  fame  alone,  although  I  wouldn't  mind  it  if 
I  deserved  it.  It's  that  I  want  to  do  just  one  thing 
that  amounts  to  something.  I  wish  you'd  give  me 
an  idea,  Kathleen,  something  useful  in  —  say  in  entomol- 


Together  they  walked  back  to  the  terrace.  Duane 
had  gone;  Geraldine  sat  sideways  on  the  parapet,  her 
brown  eyes  fixed  on  the  road  along  which  her  lover  had 
departed. 

"  Geraldine,"  said  Kathleen,  who  very  seldom  re 
lapsed  into  the  vernacular,  "  this  brother  of  yours  de 
sires  to  perform  some  startling  stunt  in  entomology  and 
be  awarded  Carnegie  medals." 

"  That's  about  it,"  said  Scott,  undaunted.  "  Some 
wise  guy  put  it  all  over  the  Boll-weevil,  and  saved  a  few 
billions  for  the  cotton  growers;  another  gentleman  full 
of  scientific  thinks  studied  out  the  San  Jose  scale  ;  others 
have  got  in  good  licks  at  mosquitoes  and  house-flies.  I'd 
like  to  tackle  something  of  that  sort." 

303 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Rose-beetles,"  said  his  sister  briefly.  In  her  voice 
was  a  suspicion  of  tears,  and  she  kept  her  head  turned 
from  them. 

"  Nobody  could  ever  get  rid  of  Rose-beetles,"  said 
Kathleen.  "  But  it  would  be  exciting,  wouldn't  it, 
Scott?  Think  of  saving  our  roses  and  peonies  and 
irises  every  year !  " 

"  I  am  thinking  of  it,"  said  Scott  gravely. 

A  few  moments  later  he  disappeared  around  the 
corner  of  the  house,  returning  presently,  pockets  bulg 
ing  with  bottles  and  boxes,  a  field-microscope  in  one 
hand,  and  several  volumes  on  Coleoptera  in  the  other. 

"  They're  gone,"  he  said  without  further  explana 
tion. 

"  Who  are  gone  ?  "  inquired  Kathleen. 

"  The  Rose-beetles.  They  deposit  their  eggs  in  the 
soil.  The  larvas  ought  to  be  out  by  now.  I'm  going  to 
begin  this  very  minute,  Kathleen."  And  he  descended  the 
terrace  steps,  entered  the  garden,  and,  seating  himself 
under  a  rose-tree,  spread  out  his  paraphernalia  and  be 
gan  a  delicate  and  cautious  burrowing  process  in  the 
sun-dried  soil. 

"  Fame  is  hidden  under  humble  things,"  observed 
Geraldine  with  a  resolute  effort  at  lightness.  "  That 
excellent  brother  of  mine  may  yet  discover  it  in  the 
garden  dirt." 

"  Dirt  breeds  roses,"  said  Kathleen.  "  Oh,  look, 
dear,  how  earnest  he  is  about  it.  What  a  boy  he  is,  after 
all!  So  serious  and  intent,  and  so  touchingly  con 
fident!" 

Geraldine  nodded  listlessly,  considering  her  brother's 
evolutions  with  his  trowel  and  weeder  where  he  lay  flat 
on  his  stomach,  absorbed  in  his  investigations. 

"  Why  does  he  get  so  grubby  ?  "  she  said.  "  All  his 
304 


AMBITIONS   AND    LETTERS 

coat-pockets  are  permanently  out  of  shape.  The  other 
day  I  was  looking  through  them,  at  his  request,  to  find 
one  of  my  own  handkerchiefs  which  he  had  taken,  and 
oh,  horrors !  a  caterpillar,  forgotten,  had  spun  a  big 
cocoon  in  one  of  them !  " 

She  shuddered,  but  in  Kathleen's  laughter  there  was 
a  tremor  of  tenderness  born  of  that  shy  pride  which 
arises  from  possession.  For  it  was  now  too  late,  if  it 
had  not  always  been  too  late,  for  any  criticism  of  this 
boy  of  hers.  Perfect  he  had  always  been,  wondrous  to 
her,  as  a  child,  for  the  glimpses  of  the  man  developing 
in  him;  perfect,  wonderful,  adorable  now  for  the 
glimpses  of  the  child  which  she  caught  so  constantly 
through  the  man's  character  now  forming  day  by  day 
under  her  loyal  eyes.  Everything  masculine  in  him  she 
loved  or  pardoned  proudly — even  his  egotism,  his  slap 
dash  self-confidence,  his  bullying  of  her,  his  domination, 
his  exacting  demands.  But  this  new  humility — this  sud 
den  humble  doubt  that  he  might  not  be  worthy  of  her, 
filled  her  heart  with  delicious  laughter  and  a  delight 
almost  childish. 

So  she  watched  him  from  the  parapet,  chin  cupped 
in  both  palms,  bright  hair  blowing,  one  shoulder  al 
most  hidden  under  the  drooping  scarlet  nasturtiums 
pendant  from  the  carved  stone  urn  above ;  a  fair,  sweet, 
youthful  creature,  young  as  her  guiltless  heart,  sweet 
as  her  conscience,  fair  as  the  current  of  her  stainless 
life. 

And  beside  her,  seated  sideways,  brown  eyes  brood 
ing,  sat  a  young  girl,  delicately  lovely,  already  harassed, 
already  perplexed,  already  bruised  and  wearied  by  her 
first  skirmishes  with  life;  not  yet  fully  understanding 
what  threatened,  what  lay  before — alas  !  what  lay  behind 
her — even  to  the  fifth  generation. 

305 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


They  were  to  motor  to  Lenox  after  luncheon.  Be 
fore  that — and  leaving  Scott  absorbed  in  his  grubbing, 
and  Kathleen  absorbed  in  watching  him — Geraldine  wan 
dered  back  into  the  library  and  took  down  a  book — a 
book  which  had  both  beguiled  and  horrified  the  solitude 
of  her  self-imprisonment.  It  was  called  "  Simpson  on 
Heredity." 

There  were  some  very  hideous  illustrated  pages  in 
that  book ;  she  turned  to  them  with  a  fearful  fascination 
which  had  never  left  her  since  she  first  read  them.  They 
dealt  with  the  transmission  of  certain  tendencies  through 
successive  generations. 

That  the  volume  was  an  old  one  and  amusingly  out 
of  date  she  did  not  realise,  as  her  brown  eyes  widened 
over  terrifying  paragraphs  and  the  soft  tendrils  of  her 
glossy  hair  almost  bristled. 

She  had  asked  Kathleen  about  it,  and  Kathleen  had 
asked  Dr.  Bailey,  who  became  very  irritated  and  told 
Geraldine  that  anybody  except  a  physician  who  ever 
read  medical  works  was  a  fool.  Desperation  gave  her 
courage  to  ask  him  one  more  question ;  his  well-meant 
reply  silenced  her.  But  she  had  the  book  under  her  pil 
low.  It  is  better  to  answer  such  questions  when  the 
young  ask  them. 

And  over  it  all  she  pondered  and  pored,  and  used 
a  dictionary  and  shuddered,  frightening  herself  into  a 
morbid  condition  until,  desperately  scared,  she  even 
thought  of  going  to  Duane  about  it;  but  could  not 
find  the  hardihood  to  do  it  or  the  vocabulary  neces 
sary. 

Now  Duane  was  gone;  and  the  book  lay  there  be 
tween  her  knees,  all  its  technical  vagueness  menacing  her 
with  unknown  terrors ;  and  she  felt  that  she  could  endure 
it  alone  no  longer. 

306 


AMBITIONS   AND    LETTERS 

She  wrote  him :  "  You  have  not  been  gone  an  hour, 
and  already  I  need  you.  I  wish  to  ask  you  about 
something  that  is  troubling  me;  I've  asked  Kathleen 
and  she  doesn't  know ;  and  Dr.  Bailey  was  horrid  to 
me,  and  I  tried  to  find  out  from  Scott  whether  he 
knew,  but  he  wasn't  much  interested.  So,  Duane,  who 
else  is  there  for  me  to  ask  except  you?  And  I  don't 
exactly  know  whether  I  may  speak  about  such  mat 
ters  to  you,  but  I'm  rather  frightened,  and  densely 
ignorant. 

"  It  is  this,  dear ;  in  a  medical  book  which  I  read, 
it  says  that  hereditary  taints  are  transmissible ;  that 
sometimes  they  may  skip  the  second  generation  but 
only  to  appear  surely  in  the  third.  But  it  also  says 
that  the  taint  is  very  likely  to  appear  in  every  genera 
tion. 

"  Duane,  is  this  true?  It  has  worried  me  sick  since  I 
read  it.  Because,  my  darling,  if  it  is  so,  is  it  not  another 
reason  for  our  not  marrying? 

"  Do  you  understand?  I  can  and  will  eradicate 
what  is  threatening  me,  but  if  I  marry  you — you  do 
understand,  don't  you?  Isn't  it  all  right  for  me  to  ask 
you  whether,  if  we  should  have  children,  this  thing  would 
menace  them?  Oh,  Duane — Duane!  Have  I  any  right 
to  marry?  Children  come — God  knows  how,  for  nobody 
ever  told  me  exactly,  and  I'm  a  fool  about  such  things — 
but  I  summoned  up  courage  to  ask  Dr.  Bailey  if  there 
was  any  way  to  tell  before  I  married  whether  I  would 
have  any,  and  he  said  I  would  if  I  had  any  notion  of  my 
duty  and  any  pretence  to  self-respect.  And  I  don't 
know  what  he  means  and  I'm  bewildered  and  miserable 
and  afraid  to  marry  you  even  when  I  myself  become  per 
fectly  well.  And  that  is  what  worries  me,  Duane,  and  I 
have  nobody  in  the  world  to  ask  about  it  except  you. 

307 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Could  you  please  tell  me  how  I  might  learn  what  I  ought 
to  know  concerning  these  things  without  betraying  my 
own  vital  interest  in  them  to  whomever  I  ask?  You  see, 
Kathleen  is  as  innocent  as  I. 

"  Please  tell  me  all  you  can,  Duane,  for  I  am  most 
unhappy." 

"  The  house  is  very  still  and  full  of  sunlight  and  cut 
flowers.  Scott  is  meditating  great  deeds,  lying  flat  in 
the  dirt.  Kathleen  sits  watching  him  from  the  parapet. 
And  I  am  here  in  the  library,  with  that  ghastly  book  at 
my  elbow,  pouring  out  all  my  doubts  and  fears  to  the 
only  man  in  the  world — whom  God  bless  and  protect 
wherever  he  may  be — Oh,  Duane,  Duane,  how  I  love 

you!" 

She  hurriedly  directed  and  sealed  the  letter  and 
placed  it  in  the  box  for  outgoing  mail;  then,  unquiet 
and  apprehensive  regarding  what  she  had  ventured  to 
write,  she  began  a  restless  tour  of  the  house,  upstairs 
and  down,  wandering  aimlessly  through  sunny  corridors, 
opening  doors  for  a  brief  survey  of  chambers  in  which 
only  the  shadow-patterns  of  leaves  moved  on  sunlit 
walls ;  still  rooms  tenanted  only  by  the  carefully  dusted 
furniture  which  seemed  to  stand  there  watching  atten 
tively  for  another  guest. 

Duane  had  left  his  pipe  in  his  bedroom.  She  was 
silly  over  it,  even  to  the  point  of  retiring  into  her  room, 
shredding  some  cigarettes,  filling  the  rather  rank  bowl, 
and  trying  her  best  to  smoke  it.  But  such  devotion  was 
beyond  her  physical  powers ;  she  rinsed  her  mouth, 
furious  at  being  defeated  in  her  pious  intentions,  and, 
making  an  attractive  parcel  of  the  pipe,  seized  the  occa 
sion  to  write  him  another  letter. 

"  There  is  in  my  heart,"  she  wrote,  "  no  room  for 
308 


AMBITIONS   AND    LETTERS 

anything  except  you ;  no  desire  except  for  you ;  no  hope, 
no  interest  that  is  not  yours.  You  praise  my  beauty; 
you  endow  me  with  what  you  might  wish  I  really  pos 
sessed;  and  oh,  I  really  am  so  humble  at  your  feet,  if 
you  only  knew  it!  So  dazed  by  your  goodness  to  me, 
so  grateful,  so  happy  that  you  have  chosen  me 
(I  just  jumped  up  to  look  at  myself  in  the  mirror; 
I  am  pretty,  Duane,  I've  a  stunning  colour  just 
now  and  there  is  a  certain  charm  about  me — even 
I  can  see  it  in  what  you  call  the  upcurled  corners  of 
my  mouth,  and  in  my  figure  and  hands) — and  I  am 
so  happy  that  it  is  true — that  you  find  me  beautiful, 
that  you  care  for  my  beauty.  ...  It  is  so  with  a 
man,  I  believe;  and  a  girl  wishes  to  have  him  love  her 
beauty, too. 

"  But,  Duane,  I  don't  think  the  average  girl  cares 
very  much  about  that  in  a  man.  Of  course  you  are  ex 
ceedingly  nice  to  look  at,  and  I  notice  it  sometimes,  but 
not  nearly  as  often  as  you  notice  what  you  think  is  ex 
ternally  attractive  about  me. 

"  In  my  heart,  I  don't  believe  it  really  matters  much 
to  a  girl  what  a  man  looks  like ;  anyway,  it  matters  very 
little  after  she  once  knows  him. 

"  Of  course  women  do  notice  handsome  men — or 
what  we  consider  handsome — which  is,  I  believe,  not  at 
all  what  men  care  for ;  because  men  usually  seem  to  have 
a  desire  to  kick  the  man  whom  women  find  good-looking. 
I  know  several  men  who  feel  that  way  about  Jack  Dysart. 
I  think  you  do,  for  one. 

"  Poor  Jack  Dysart !  To-day's  papers  are  saying 
such  horridly  unpleasant  things  about  the  rich  men  with 
whom  he  was  rather  closely  associated  in  business  affairs 
several  years  ago.  I  read,  but  I  do  not  entirely  com 
prehend. 

309 


"  The  New  York  papers  seem  unusually  gloomy  this 
summer;  nothing  but  predictions  of  hard  times  coming, 
and  how  many  corporations  the  attorney-general  is 
going  to  proceed  against,  and  wicked  people  who  loot 
metropolitan  railways,  and  why  the  district-attorney 
doesn't  do  his  duty — which  you  say  he  does — oh,  dear ; 
I  expect  that  Scott  and  Kathleen  and  I  will  have  to  take 
in  boarders  this  winter;  but  if  nobody  has  any  money, 
nobody  can  pay  board,  so  everybody  will  be  ruined  and 
I  don't  very  much  care,  for  I  could  teach  school,  only 
who  is  to  pay  my  salary  if  there's  no  money  to  pay  it 
with?  Oh,  dear!  what  nonsense  I  am  writing — only  to 
keep  on  writing,  because  it  seems  to  bring  you  a  little 
nearer — my  own — my  Duane — my  comrade — the  same, 
same  little  boy  who  ran  away  from  his  nurse  and  came 
into  our  garden  to  fight  my  brother  and — fall  in  love 
with  his  sister!  Oh,  Fate!  Oh,  Destiny!  Oh,  Duane 
Mallett ! 

"  Here  is  a  curious  phenomenon.     Listen : 

"  Away  from  you  I  have  a  woman's  courage  to  tell 
you  how  I  long  for  you,  how  my  heart  and  my  arms  ache 
for  you.  But  when  I  am  with  you  I'm  less  of  a  woman 
and  more  of  a  girl — a  girl  not  yet  accustomed  to  some 
things — always  guarded,  always  a  little  reticent,  always 
instinctively  recoiling  from  the  contact  I  really  like, 
always  a  little  on  the  defensive  against  your  lips,  in  spite 
of  myself — against  your  arms — where,  somehow,  I  can 
not  seem  to  stay  long  at  a  time — will  not  endure  it — 
cannot,  somehow. 

"  Yet,  here,  away  from  you,  I  so  long  for  your  em 
brace,  and  cannot  imagine  it  too  long,  too  close,  too  ten 
der  to  satisfy  my  need  of  you. 

"  And  this  is  my  second  letter  to  you  within  the  hour 
— one  hour  after  your  departure. 

310 


"  Oh,  Duane,  I  do  truly  miss  you  so !     I  go  about 
humming  that  air  you  found  so  quaint : 

"  '  Lisetto  quittee  la  plaine, 
Moi  perdi  bonheur  a  moi, 
Yeux  a  moi  semblent  fontaine, 
Depuis  moi  pas  mire  toi,' 

and  there's  a  tear  in  every  note  of  it,  and  I'm  the  most 
lonely  girl  on  the  face  of  the  earth  to-day. 

"  GERALDINE  QUI  PLEUBE." 

"  P.  S. — Voici  votre  pipe,  Monsieur !  " 


21 


CHAPTER    XIV 

THE    PROPHETS 

AUGUST  in  town  found  an  unusual  number  of  New 
York  men  at  the  clubs,  at  the  restaurants,  at  the  summer 
theatres.  Men  who  very  seldom  shoved  their  noses  in 
side  the  metropolitan  oven  during  the  summer  baking 
were  now  to  be  met  everywhere  and  anywhere  within  the 
financial  district  and  without.  The  sky-perched  and 
magnificent  down-town  "  clubs  "  were  full  of  men  who 
under  normal  circumstances  would  have  remained  at 
Newport,  Lenox,  Bar  Harbor,  or  who  at  least  would 
have  spent  the  greater  portion  of  the  summer  on  their 
yachts  or  their  Long  Island  estates. 

And  in  every  man's  hand  or  pocket  was  a  newspaper. 

They  were  scarcely  worth  reading  for  mere  pleas 
ure,  these  New  York  newspapers;  indeed,  there  was 
scarcely  anything  in  them  to  read  except  a  daily  record 
of  the  steady  decline  in  securities  of  every  description; 
paragraphs  noting  the  passing  of  dividends;  columns 
setting  forth  minutely  the  opinions  of  very  wealthy  men 
concerning  the  business  outlook;  chronicles  in  detail  of 
suits  brought  against  railroads  and  against  great  indus 
trial  corporations ;  accounts  of  inquiries  by  State  and 
by  Federal  authorities  into  combinations  resulting  in  an 
alleged  violation  of  various  laws. 

Here  and  there  a  failure  of  some  bucket-branded 
broker  was  noted — the  reports  echoing  like  the  first 
dropping  shots  along  the  firing  line. 

312 


THE   PROPHETS 


Even  to  the  most  casual  and  uninterested  outsider  it 
was  evident  that  already  the  metropolis  was  under  a  ten 
sion  ;  that  the  tension  was  increasing  almost  impercepti 
bly  day  by  day;  that  there  seemed  to  be  no  very  clear 
idea  as  to  the  reason  of  it,  only  a  confused  apprehension, 
an  apparently  unreassuring  fear  of  some  grotesque  dan 
ger  ahead,  which  daily  reading  of  the  newspapers  was 
not  at  all  calculated  to  allay. 

Of  course  there  were  precise  reasons  for  impending 
trouble  given  and  reiterated  by  those  amateurs  of  finance 
and  politics  whose  opinions  are  at  the  disposal  of  the 
newspaper-reading  public. 

Prolixity  characterised  these  solemn  utterances, 
packed  full  of  cant  phrases  such  as  "  undigested  securi 
ties  "  and  "  the  treacherous  attack  on  the  nation's  in 
tegrity." 

Two  principal  reasons  were  given  for  the  local 
financial  uneasiness ;  and  the  one  made  the  other  ridicu 
lous — first,  that  the  nation's  Executive  was  mad  as  Nero 
and  had  deliberately  begun  a  senseless  holocaust  involv 
ing  the  entire  nation ;  the  other  that  a  "  panic  "  was  due, 
anyway.  It  resembled  the  logic  of  the  White  Queen  of 
immortal  memory,  who  began  screaming  before  she 
pricked  her  finger  in  order  to  save  herself  any  emotion, 
after  the  pin  had  drawn  blood. 

Men  knew  in  their  hearts  that  there  was  no  real  rea 
son  for  impending  trouble ;  that  this  menace  was  an 
unreal  thing,  intangible,  without  substance — only  a 
shadow  cast  by  their  own  assininity. 

Yet  shadows  can  be  made  real  property  when  author 
ity  so  ordains.  Because  there  was  once  a  man  with  a 
donkey  who  met  a  stranger  in  the  desert. 

The  stranger  bargained  for  and  bought  the  donkey ; 
the  late  owner  shoved  the  shekels  into  his  ample  pockets 

313 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


and  sat  down  in  the  mule's'  shadow  to  escape  the  sun ; 
and  the  new  owner  brought  suit  to  recover  the  rent 
due  him  for  the  occupation  of  the  shadow  cast  by  his 
donkey. 

There  was  also  a  mule  which  waited  seven  years  to 
kick. 

There  are  asses  and  mules  and  all  sorts  of  shadows. 
The  ordinance  of  authority  can  affect  only  the  shadow ; 
the  substance  is  immutable. 

Among  other  serious  gentlemen  of  consideration 
and  means  who  had  been  unaccustomed  to  haunt  the  me 
tropolis  in  the  dog  days  was  Colonel  Alexander  Mallett, 
President  of  the  Half  Moon  Trust  Company,  and  inci 
dentally  Duane's  father. 

His  town-house  was  still  open,  although  his  wife  and 
daughter  were  in  the  country.  To  it,  in  the  comparative 
cool  of  the  August  evenings,  came  figures  familiar  in 
financial  circles ;  such  men  as  Magnelius  Grandcourt, 
father  of  Delancy;  and  Remsen  Tappan,  and  James 
Cray. 

Others  came  and  went,  men  of  whom  Duane  had  read 
in  the  newspapers — very  great  men  who  dressed  very 
simply,  very  powerful  men  who  dressed  elaborately ;  and 
some  were  young  and  red-faced  with  high  living,  and  one 
was  damp  of  hair  and  long-nosed,  with  eyes  set  a  trifle 
too  close  together ;  and  one  fulfilled  every  external  requi 
site  for  a  "  good  fellow  " ;  and  another  was  very  old, 
very  white,  with  a  nut-cracker  jaw  and  faded  eyes,  blue 
as  an  unweaned  pup's,  and  a  cream-coloured  wig  curled 
glossily  over  waxen  ears  and  a  bloodless  and  furrowed 
neck. 

All  these  were  very  great  men ;  but  they  and  Colonel 
Mallett  journeyed  at  intervals  into  the  presence  of  a 
greater  man  who  inhabited,  all  alone,  except  for  a  crew 

314 


THE   PROPHETS 


of  a  hundred  men,  an  enormous  yacht,  usually  at  anchor 
off  the  white  masonry  cliffs  of  the  seething  city. 

All  alone  this  very  great  man  inhabited  the  huge 
white  steamer;  and  they  piped  him  fore  and  they  piped 
him  aft  and  they  piped  him  over  the  side.  Many  a  mid 
night  star  looked  down  at  the  glowing  end  of  his  black 
cigar ;  many  a  dawn  shrilled  with  his  boatswain's  whistle. 
He  was  a  very,  very  great  man ;  none  was  greater  in 
New  York  town. 

It  was  said  of  him  that  he  once  killed  a  pompous 
statesman — by  ridicule: 

"  I  know  who  you  are ! "  panted  a  ragged  urchin, 
gazing  up  in  awe  as  the  famous  statesman  approached 
his  waiting  carriage. 

"  And  who  am  I,  my  little  man?  " 

"  You  are  the  great  senator  from  New  York." 

"  Yes — you  are  right.  But  " — and  he  solemnly 
pointed  his  gloved  forefinger  toward  heaven — "  but,  re 
member,  there  is  One  even  greater  than  I." 

Duane  had  heard  the  absurd  lampoon  as  a  child,  and 
one  evening  late  in  August,  smoking  his  after-dinner 
cigar  beside  his  father  in  the  empty  conservatory,  he 
recalled  the  story,  which  had  been  one  of  his  father's 
favorites. 

But  Colonel  Mallett  scarcely  smiled,  scarcely  heard  ; 
and  his  son  watched  him  furtively.  The  trim,  elastic 
figure  was  less  upright  this  summer ;  the  close  gray  hair 
and  cavalry  mustache  had  turned  white  very  rapidly 
since  spring.  For  the  first  time,  too,  in  all  his  life,  Colo 
nel  Mallett  wore  spectacles ;  and  the  thin  gold  rims  irri 
tated  his  ears  and  the  delicate  bridge  of  his  nose. 
Under  his  pleasant  eyes  the  fine  skin  had  darkened  no 
ticeably  ;  thin  new  lines  had  sprung  downward  from  the 
nostrils'  clean-cut  wings;  but  the  most  noticeable 

315 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


change  was  in  his  hands,  which  were  no  longer  firm  and 
fairly  smooth,  but  were  now  the  hands  of  an  old  man, 
restless  if  not  tremulous,  unsteady  in  handling  the  cigar 
which,  unnoticed,  had  gone  out. 

They — father  and  son — had  never  been  very  inti 
mate.  An  excellent  understanding  had  always  existed 
between  them  with  nothing  deeper  in  it  than  a  natural 
-affection  and  an  instinctive  respect  for  each  other's 
privacy. 

This  respect  now  oppressed  Duane  because  long 
habit,  and  the  understood  pact,  seemed  to  bar  him  from 
A  sympathy  and  a  practical  affection  which,  for  the  first 
time,  it  seemed  to  him  his  father  might  care  for. 

That  his  father  was  worried  was  plain  enough;  but 
how  anxious  and  with  how  much  reason,  he  had  hesi 
tated  to  ask,  waiting  for  some  voluntary  admission,  or 
at  least  some  opening,  which  the  older  man  never  gave. 

That  night,  however,  he  had  tried  an  opening  for 
himself,  offering  the  old  stock  story  which  had  always, 
heretofore,  amused  his  father.  And  there  had  been  no 
response. 

In  silence  he  thought  the  matter  over ;  his  sympathy 
was  always  quick;  it  hurt  him  to  remain  aloof  when 
there  might  be  a  chance  that  he  could  help  a  little. 

"  It  may  amuse  you,"  he  said  carelessly,  "  to  know 
how  much  I've  made  since  I  came  back  from  Paris." 

The  elder  man  looked  up  preoccupied.  His  son 
went  on: 

"  What  you  set  aside  for  me  brings  me  ten  thousand 
a  year,  you  know.  So  far  I  haven't  touched  it.  Isn't 
that  pretty  good  for  a  start  ?  " 

Colonel  Mallett  sat  up  straighter  with  a  glimmer  of 
interest  in  his  eyes. 

Duane  went  on,  checking  off  on  his  fingers : 
316 


THE   PROPHETS 


"  I  got  fifteen  hundred  for  Mrs.  Varick's  portrait, 
the  same  for  Mrs.  James  Cray's,  a  thousand  each  for 
portraits  of  Carl  and  Friedrich  Gumble ;  that  makes  five 
thousand.  Then  I  had  three  thousand  for  the  music- 
room  I  did  for  Mrs.  Ellis;  and  Dinklespiel  Brothers, 
who  handle  my  pictures,  have  sold  every  one  I  sentv 
which  gives  me  twelve  thousand  so  far." 

"  I  am  perfectly  astonished,"  murmured  his  father. 

Duane  laughed.  "  Oh,  I  know  very  well  that  sheer 
merit  had  nothing  much  to  do  with  it.  The  people  who 
gave  me  orders  are  all  your  friends.  They  did  it  as 
they  might  have  sent  in  wedding  presents;  I  am  your 
son  ;  I  come  back  from  Paris ;  it's  up  to  them  to  do  some 
thing.  They've  done  it — those  who  ever  will,  I  expect 
— and  from  now  on  it  will  be  different." 

"  They've  given  you  a  start,"  said  his  father. 

"  They  certainly  have  done  that.  Many  a  brilliant 
young  fellow,  with  more  ability  than  I,  eats  out  his 
heart  unrecognised,  sterilised  for  lack  of  what  came  to 
me  because  of  your  influence." 

"  It  is  well  to  look  at  it  in  that  way  for  the  present," 
said  his  father.  He  sat  silent  for  a  while,  staring 
through  the  dusk  at  the  lighted  windows  of  houses  in 
the  rear.  Then: 

"  I  have  meant  to  say,  Duane,  that  I — we  " — he 
found  a  little  difficulty  in  choosing  his  words — "  that 
the  Trust  Company's  officers  feel  that,  for  the  present, 
it  is  best  for  them  to  reconsider  their  offer  that  you 
should  undertake  the  mural  decoration  of  the  new 
building." 

"  Oh,"  said  Duane,  "  I'm  sorry ! — but  it's  all  right, 
father." 

"  I  told  them  you'd  take  it  without  offence.  I  told 
them  that  I'd  tell  you  the  reason  we  do  not  feel  quite 

317 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ready  to  incur,  at  this  moment,  any  additional  ex 
penses." 

"  Everybody  is  economising,"  said  Duane  cheer 
fully,  "  so  I  understand.  No  doubt — later " 

"  No  doubt,"  said  his  father  gravely. 

The  son's  attitude  was  careless,  untroubled;  he 
dropped  one  long  leg  over  the  other  knee,  and  idly  ex 
amining  his  cigar,  cast  one  swift  level  look  at  the  older 
man: 

"Father?" 

"  Yes,  my  son." 

"  I — it  just  occurred  to  me  that  if  you  happen  to 
have  any  temporary  use  for  what  you  very  generously 
set  aside  for  me,  don't  stand  on  ceremony." 

There  ensued  a  long  silence.  It  was  his  bedtime 
when  Colonel  Mallett  stirred  in  his  holland-covered  arm 
chair  and  stood  up. 

"  Thank  you,  my  son,"  he  said  simply ;  they  shook 
hands  and  separated;  the  father  to  sleep,  if  he  could; 
the  son  to  go  out  into  the  summer  night,  walk  to  his 
nearest  club,  and  write  his  daily  letter  to  the  woman  he 
loved: 

"  Dear,  it  is  not  at  all  bad  in  town — not  that  mur 
derous,  humid  heat  that  you  think  I'm  up  against ;  and 
you  must  stop  reproaching  yourself  for  enjoying  the 
delicious  breezes  in  the  Adirondacks.  Women  don't 
know  what  a  jolly  time  men  have  in  town.  Follows  the 
chronical  of  this  August  day: 

"  I  had  your  letter ;  that  is  breeze  enough  for  me ; 
it  was  all  full  of  blue  sky  and  big  white  clouds  and  the 
scent  of  Adirondack  pines.  Isn't  it  jolly  for  you  and 
Kathleen  to  be  at  the  Varicks'  camp !  And  what  a  j  oily 
crowd  you've  run  into. 

318 


THE   PROPHETS 


"  I  note  what  you  say  about  your  return  to  the 
Berkshires,  and  that  you  expect  to  be  at  Berkshire  Pass 
Inn  with  the  motor  on  Monday.  Give  my  love  to  Nai'da ; 
I  know  you  three  and  young  Montross  will  have  a  bully 
tour  through  the  hill  country. 

"  I  also  note  your  red-pencil  cross  at  the  top  of  the 
page — which  always  gives  me,  as  soon  as  I  open  a  letter 
of  yours,  the  assurance  that  all  is  still  well  with  you 
and  that  victory  still  remains  with  you.  Thank  God! 
Stand  steady,  little  girl,  for  the  shadows  are  flying  and 
the  dawn  is  ours. 

"  After  your  letter,  breakfast  with  father — a  rather 
silent  one.  Then  he  went  down-town  in  his  car  and  I 
walked  to  the  studio.  It's  one  of  those  stable-like  stu 
dios  which  decorate  the  cross-streets  in  the  50's,  but  big 
enough  to  work  in. 

"  A  rather  bothersome  bit  of  news :  the  Trust  Com 
pany  reconsiders  its  commission ;  and  I  have  three  lu 
nettes  and  three  big  mural  panels  practically  completed. 
For  a  while  I'll  admit  I  had  the  blues,  but,  after  all, 
some  day  the  Trust  Company  is  likely  to  take  up  the 
thing  again  and  give  me  the  commission.  Anyway,  I've 
had  a  corking  time  doing  the  things,  and  lots  of  valu 
able  practice  in  handling  a  big  job  and  covering  large 
surfaces ;  and  the  problem  has  been  most  exciting  and 
interesting  because,  you  see,  I've  had  to  solve  it,  taking 
into  consideration  the  architecture  and  certain  fixed 
keys  and  standards,  such  as  the  local  colour  and  texture 
of  the  marble  and  the  limitations  of  the  light  area. 
Don't  turn  up  your  pretty  nose ;  it's  all  very  interesting. 

"  I  didn't  bother  about  luncheon ;  and  about  five  I 
went  to  the  club,  rather  tired  in  my  spinal  column  and 
arm-weary. 

"  Nobody  was  there  whom  you  know  except  Delancy 
22  319 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


Grandcourt  and  Dysart.  The  latter  certainly  looks 
very  haggard.  I  do  not  like  him  personally,  as  you 
know,  but  the  man  looks  ill  and  old  and  the  papers  are 
becoming  bolder  in  what  they  hint  at  concerning  him 
and  the  operations  he  was,  and  is  still  supposed  to  be, 
connected  with;  and  it  is  deplorable  to  see  such  a  phys 
ical  change  in  any  human  being,  guilty  or  innocent.  I 
do  not  like  to  see  pain ;  I  never  did.  For  Dysart  I 
have  no  use  at  all,  but  he  is  suffering,  and  it  is  difficult 
to  contemplate  any  suffering  unmoved. 

"  There  was  a  letter  at  the  club  for  me  from  Scott. 
He  says  he's  plugging  away  at  the  Rose-beetle's  life  his 
tory  as  a  hors-d'oeuvre  before  tackling  the  appetising 
problem  of  his  total  extermination.  Dear  old  Scott! 
I  never  thought  that  the  boy  I  fought  in  your  garden 
would  turn  into  a  spectacled  savant.  Or  that  his  sister 
would  prove  to  be  the  only  inspiration  and  faith  and 
hope  that  life  holds  for  me ! 

"  I  talked  to  Delancy.  He  is  a  good  young  man,  as 
you've  always  insisted.  I  know  one  thing;  he's  high- 
minded  and  gentle.  Dysart  has  a  manner  of  treating 
him  which  is  most  offensive,  but  it  only  reflects  dis 
credit  on  Dysart. 

"  Delancy  told  me  that  Rosalie  is  hostess  in  her  own 
cottage  this  month  and  has  asked  him  up.  I  heard  him 
speaking  rather  diffidently  to  Dysart  about  it,  and 
Dysart  replied  that  he  didn't  *  give  a  damn  who  went  to 
the  house,'  as  he  wasn't  going. 

"  So  much  for  gossip ;  now  a  fact  or  two :  my  father 
is  plainly  worried  over  the  business  outlook;  and  he's 
quite  alone  in  the  house ;  and  that  is  why  I  don't  go  back 
to  Roya-Neh  just  now  and  join  your  brother.  I  could 
do  plenty  of  work  there.  Scott  writes  that  the  new 
studio  is  in  good  shape  for  me.  What  a  generous  girl 

320 


THE   PROPHETS 


you  are !  Be  certain  that  at  the  very  first  opportunity 
I  will  go  and  occupy  it  and  paint,  no  doubt,  several 
exceedingly  remarkable  pictures  in  it  which  will  sell  for 
enormous  prices  and  enable  us  to  keep  a  maid-of-all- 
work  when  we  begin  our  menage ! 

"  Father  has  retired — poor  old  governor — it  tears 
me  all  to  pieces  to  see  him  so  silent  and  listless.  I  am 
here  at  the  club  writing  this  before  I  go  home  to  bed. 
Now  I  am  going.  Good-night,  my  beloved. 

"  DUANE." 

"  P.  S. — An  honour,  or  the  chance  of  it,  has  sud 
denly  confronted  me,  surprising  me  so  much  that  I  don't 
really  dare  to  believe  that  it  can  possibly  happen  to  me 
— at  least  not  for  years.  It  is  this :  I  met  Guy  Wilton 
the  other  day ;  you  don't  know  him,  but  he  is  a  most 
charming  and  cultivated  man,  an  engineer.  I  lunched 
with  him  at  the  Pyramid — that  bully  old  club  into  which 
nothing  on  earth  can  take  a  man  who  has  not  distin 
guished  himself  in  his  profession.  It  is  composed  of 
professional  and  business  men,  the  law,  the  army,  navy, 
diplomatic  and  consular,  the  arts  and  sciences,  and  usu 
ally  the  chief  executive  of  the  nation. 

"  During  luncheon  Wilton  said :  *  You  ought  to  be 
in  here.  You  are  the  proper  timber.' 

"  I  was  astounded  and  told  him  so. 

"  He  said :  *  By  the  way,  the  president  of  the  Acad 
emy  of  Design  is  very  much  impressed  with  some  work 
of  yours  he  has  seen.  I've  heard  him,  and  other  artists, 
also,  discussing  some  pictures  of  yours  which  were  ex 
hibited  in  a  Fifth  Avenue  gallery.' 

"  Well,  you  know,  Geraldine,  the  breath  was  getting 
scarcer  in  my  lungs  every  minute  and  I  hadn't  a  word  to 
say.  And  do  you  know  what  that  trump  of  a  mining 
engineer  did?  He  took  me  about  after  luncheon  and  I 

321 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


met  a  lot  of  very  corking  old  ducks  and  some  very  emi 
nent  and  delightful  younger  ducks,  and  everybody  was 
terribly  nice,  and  the  president  of  the  Academy,  who  is 
startlingly  young  and  amiable,  said  that  Guy  Wilton 
had  spoken  about  me,  and  that  it  was  customary  that 
when  anybody  was  proposed  for  membership,  a  man  of 
his  own  profession  should  do  it. 

"  And  I  looked  over  the  club  list  and  saw  Billy  Van 
Siclen's  name,  and  now  what  do  you  think !  Billy  has 
proposed  me,  Austin,  the  marine  painter,  has  seconded 
me,  and  no  end  of  men  have  written  in  my  behalf — pro 
fessors,  army  men,  navy  men,  business  friends  of 
father's,  architects,  writers — and  I'm  terribly  excited 
over  it,  although  my  excitement  has  plenty  of  time  to 
cool  because  it's  a  fearfully  conservative  club  and  a  man 
has  to  wait  years,  anyway. 

"  This  is  the  very  great  honour,  dear,  for  it  is  one 
even  to  be  proposed  for  the  Pyramid.  I  know  you  will 
be  happy  over  it. 

"  D." 

The  weather  became  hotter  toward  the  beginning  of 
September;  his  studio  was  almost  unendurable,  nor  was 
the  house  very  much  better. 

To  eat  was  an  effort ;  to  sleep  a  martyrdom.  Night 
after  night  he  rose  from  his  hot  pillows  to  stand  and 
listen  outside  his  father's  door ;  but  the  old  endure  heat 
better  than  the  young,  and  very  often  his  father  was 
asleep  in  the  stifling  darkness  which  made  sleep  for  him 
impossible. 

The  usual  New  York  thunder-storms  rolled  up  over 
Staten  Island,  covered  the  southwest  with  inky  gloom, 
veined  the  horizon  with  lightning,  then  burst  in  spec 
tacular  fury  over  the  panting  city,  drenched  it  to  its 


THE   PROPHETS 


steel  foundations,  and  passed  on  rumbling  up  the  Hud 
son,  leaving  scarcely  any  relief  behind  it. 

In  one  of  these  sudden  thunder-storms  he  took 
refuge  in  a  rather  modest  and  retired  restaurant  just 
off  Fifth  Avenue;  and  it  being  the  luncheon  hour  he 
made  a  convenience  of  necessity  and  looked  about  for  a 
table,  and  discovered  Rosalie  Dysart  and  Delancy 
Grandcourt  en  tete-a-tete  over  their  peach  and  grape 
fruit  salad. 

There  was  no  reason  why  they  should  not  have  been 
there ;  no  reason  why  he  should  have  hesitated  to  speak 
to  them.  But  he  did  hesitate — in  fact,  was  retiring  by 
the  way  he  came,  when  Rosalie  glanced  around  with  that 
instinct  which  divines  a  familiar  presence,  gave  him  a 
startled  look,  coloured  promptly  to  her  temples,  and 
recovered  her  equanimity  with  a  smile  and  a  sign  for 
him  to  join  them.  So  he  shook  hands,  but  remained 
standing. 

"  We  ran  into  town  in  the  racer  this  morning,"  she 
explained.  "  Delancy  had  something  on  down-town  and 
I  wanted  to  look  over  some  cross-saddles  they  made  for 
me  at  Thompson's.  Do  be  amiable  and  help  us  eat 
our  salad.  What  a  ghastly  place  town  is  in  Septem 
ber  !  It's  bad  enough  in  the  country  this  year ;  all  the 
men  wear  long  faces  and  mutter  dreadful  prophecies. 
Can  you  tell  me,  Duane,  what  all  this  doleful  talk  is 
about?" 

"  It's  about  something  harder  to  digest  than  this 
salad.  The  public  stomach  is  ostrichlike,  but  it  can't 
stand  the  water-cure.  Which  is  all  Arabic  to  you, 
Rosalie,  and  I  don't  mean  to  be  impertinent,  only  the 
truth  is  I  don't  know  why  people  are  losing  confidence 
in  the  financial  stability  of  the  country,  but  they  ap 
parently  are." 

323 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


"  There's  a  devilish  row  on  down-town,"  observed 
Delancy,  blinking,  as  an  unusually  heavy  clap  of  thun 
der  rattled  the  dishes. 

"  What  kind  of  a  row  ?  "  asked  Duane. 

"  Greensleeve  &  Co.  have  failed,  with  liabilities  of  a 
million  and  microscopical  assets." 

Rosalie  raised  her  eyebrows ;  Greensleeve  &  Co.  were 
once  brokers  for  her  husband  if  she  remembered  cor 
rectly.  Duane  had  heard  of  them  but  was  only  vaguely 
impressed. 

"  Is  that  rather  a  bad  thing  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Well — I  don't  know.  It  made  a  noise  louder  than 
that  thunder.  Three  banks  fell  down  in  Brooklyn, 
too." 

"What  banks?" 

Delancy  named  them ;  it  sounded  serious,  but  neither 
Duane  nor  Rosalie  were  any  wiser. 

"  The  Wolverine  Mercantile  Loan  and  Trust  Com 
pany  closed  its  doors,  also,"  observed  Delancy,  drop 
ping  the  tips  of  his  long,  highly  coloured  fingers  into 
his  finger-bowl  as  though  to  wash  away  all  personal  re 
sponsibility  for  these  financial  flip-flaps. 

Rosalie  laughed :  "  This  is  pleasant  information  for 
a  rainy  day,"  she  said.  "  Duane,  have  you  heard  from 
Geraldine?" 

"  Yes,  to-day,"  he  said  innocently ;  "  she  is  leaving 
Lenox  this  morning  for  Roya-Neh.  I  hear  that  there 
is  to  be  some  shooting  there  Christmas  week.  Scott 
writes  that  the  boar  and  deer  are  increasing  very  fast 
and  must  be  kept  down.  You  and  Delancy  are  on  the 
list,  I  believe." 

Rosalie  nodded ;  Delancy  said :  "  Miss  Seagrave  has 
been  good  enough  to  ask  the  family.  Yours  is  booked, 
too,  I  fancy." 

324 


THE   PROPHETS 


"  Yes,  if  my  father  only  feels  up  to  it.  Christmas 
at  Roya-Neh  ought  to  be  a  jolly  affair." 

"  Christmas  anywhere  away  from  New  York  ought 
to  be  a  relief,"  observed  young  Grandcourt  drily. 

They  laughed  without  much  spirit.  Coffee  was 
served,  cigarettes  lighted.  Presently  Grandcourt  sent  a 
page  to  find  out  if  the  car  had  returned  from  the 
garage  where  Rosalie  had  sent  it  for  a  minor  repair. 

The  car  was  ready,  it  appeared ;  Rosalie  retired  to 
readjust  her  hair  and  veil;  the  two  men  standing 
glanced  at  one  another : 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  said  Delancy,  reddening 
with  embarrassment,  "  that  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dysart  have 
separated." 

"  I  heard  so  yesterday,"  said  Duane  coolly. 

The  other  grew  redder:  "I  heard  it  from  Mrs. 
Dysart  about  half  an  hour  ago."  He  hesitated,  then 
frankly  awkward :  "  I  say,  Mallett,  I'm  a  sort  of  an  ass 
about  these  things.  Is  there  any  impropriety  in  my 
going  about  with  Mrs.  Dysart — under  the  circum 
stances  ?  " 

"  Why — no !  "  said  Duane.  "  Rosalie  has  to  go 
about  with  people,  I  suppose.  Only — perhaps  it's 
fairer  to  her  if  you  don't  do  it  too  often — I  mean  it's 
better  for  her  that  any  one  man  should  not  appear  to 
pay  her  noticeable  attention.  You  know  what  mischief 
can  get  into  print.  What's  taken  below  stairs  is  often 
swiped  and  stealthily  perused  above  stairs." 

"  I  suppose  so.  I  don't  read  it  myself,  but  it  makes 
game  of  my  mother  and  she  finds  a  furious  consolation 
in  taking  it  to  my  father  and  planning  a  suit  for  dam 
ages  once  a  week.  You're  right ;  most  people  are  afraid 
of  it.  Do  you  think  it's  all  right  for  me  to  motor  back 
with  Mrs.  Dysart  ?  " 

325 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


"Are  you  afraid?"  asked  Duane,  smiling. 

"  Only  on  her  account,"  said  Grandcourt,  so  simply 
that  a  warm  feeling  rose  in  Duane's  heart  for  this  big, 
ungainly,  vividly  coloured  young  fellow  whose  direct 
and  honest  gaze  always  refreshed  people  even  when  they 
laughed  at  him. 

"  Are  you  driving?  "  asked  Duane. 

"  Yes.  We  came  in  at  a  hell  of  a  clip.  It  made  my 
hair  stand,  but  Mrs.  Dysart  likes  it.  ...  I  say,  Mal- 
lett,  what  sort  of  an  outcome  do  you  suppose  there'll 
be?" 

"  Between  Rosalie  and  Jack  Dysart  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  I  know  no  more  than  you,  Grandcourt.     Why?  " 

"  Only  that — it's  too  bad.  I've  known  them  so 
long;  I'm  friendly  with  both.  Jack  is  a  curious  fellow. 
There's  much  of  good  in  him,  Mallett,  although  I  be 
lieve  you  and  he  are  not  on  terms.  He  is  a — I  don't 
mean  this  for  criticism — but  sometimes  his  manner  is 
unfortunate,  leading  people  to  consider  him  over 
bearing. 

"  I  understand  why  people  think  so ;  I  get  angry  at 
him,  sometimes,  myself — being  perhaps  rather  sensitive 
and  very  conscious  that  I  am  not  anything  remarkable. 

"  But,  somehow  " — he  looked  earnestly  at  Duane — 
"  I  set  a  very  great  value  on  old  friendships.  He  and 
I  were  at  school.  I  always  admired  in  him  the  traits  I 
myself  have  lacked.  .  .  .  There  is  something  about  an 
old  friendship  that  seems  very  important  to  me.  I 
couldn't  very  easily  break  one.  ...  It  is  that  way  with 
me,  Mallett.  .  .  .  Besides,  when  I  think,  perhaps,  that 
Jack  Dysart  is  a  trifle  overbearing  and  too  free  with  his 
snubs,  I  go  somewhere  and  cool  off;  and  I  think  that  in 
his  heart  he  must  like  me  as  well  as  I  do  him  because, 

326 


THE   PROPHETS 


sooner  or  later,  we  always  manage  to  drift  together 
again.  .  .  .  That  is  one  reason  why  I  am  so  particular 
about  his  wife." 

Another  reason  happened  to  be  that  he  had  been  in 
love  with  her  himself  when  Dysart  gracefully  shouldered 
his  way  between  them  and  married  Rosalie  Dene.  Duane 
had  heard  something  about  it;  and  he  wondered  a  lit 
tle  at  the  loyalty  to  such  a  friendship  that  this  young 
man  so  naively  confessed. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  said  Duane ;  "  I  think 
you're  the  best  sort  of  an  anchor  for  Rosalie  Dysart. 
Only  a  fool  would  mistake  your  friendship.  But  the 
town's  full  of  'em,  Grandcourt,"  he  added  with  a  smile. 

"  I  suppose  so.  ...  And  I  say,  Mallett — may  I 
ask  you  something  more?  ...  I  don't  like  to  pester 
you  with  questions " 

"  Go  on,  my  friend.  I  take  it  as  a  clean  compliment 
from  a  clean-cut  man." 

Delancy  coloured,  checked,  but  presently  found  voice 
to  continue: 

"  That's  very  good  of  you ;  I  thought  I  might  speak 
to  you  about  this  Greensleeve  &  Co.'s  failure  before  Mrs. 
Dysart  returns." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Duane,  surprised ;  "  what  about 
them?  They  acted  for  Dysart  at  one  time,  didn't 
they?" 

"  They  do  now." 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

"  Yes,  I  am.  I  didn't  want  to  say  so  before  Mrs. 
Dysart.  But  the  afternoon  papers  have  it.  I  don't 
know  why  they  take  such  a  malicious  pleasure  in  harry 
ing  Dysart — unless  on  account  of  his  connections  with 
that  Yo  Espero  crowd — what's  their  names  ? — Skelton  ! 
Oh,  yes,  James  Skelton — and  Emanuel  Klawber  with  his 

327 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


thirty  millions  and  his  string  of  banks  and  trusts  and 
mines ;  and  that  plunger,  Max  Moebus,  and  old  Amos 
Flack — Flack  the  hack  stalking-horse  of  every  bull- 
market,  who  laid  down  on  his  own  brokers  and  has  done 
everybody's  dirty  work  ever  since.  How  on  earth,  Mal- 
lett,  do  you  suppose  Jack  Dysart  ever  got  himself  mixed 
up  with  such  a  lot  of  skyrockets  and  disreputable  fly- 
by-nights  ?  " 

Duane  did  not  answer.  He  had  nothing  good  to  say 
or  think  of  Dysart. 

Rosalie  reappeared  at  that  moment  in  her  distract- 
ingly  pretty  pongee  motor-coat  and  hat. 

"  Do  come  back  with  us,  Duane,"  she  said. 
"  There's  a  rumble  and  we'll  get  the  mud  off  you  with 
a  hose." 

"  I'd  like  to  run  down  sometimes  if  you'll  let  me,"  he 
said,  shaking  hands. 

So  they  parted,  he  to  return  to  his  studio,  where 
models  booked  long  ahead  awaited  him  for  canvases 
which  he  was  going  on  with,  although  the  great  Trust 
Company  that  ordered  them  had  practically  thrown 
them  back  on  his  hands. 

That  evening  at  home  when  he  came  downstairs 
dressed  in  white  serge  for  dinner,  he  found  his  father 
unusually  silent,  very  pale,  and  so  tired  that  he  barely 
tasted  the  dishes  the  butler  offered,  and  sat  for  the  most 
part  motionless,  head  and  shoulders  sagging  against  the 
back  of  his  chair. 

And  after  dinner  in  the  conservatory  Duane  lighted 
his  father's  cigar  and  then  his  own. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  he  asked,  pleasantly  invading 
the  privacy  of  years  because  he  felt  it  was  the  time  to 
do  it. 

His  father  slowly  turned  his  head  and  looked  at  him 
328 


THE   PROPHETS 


— seemed  to  study  the  well-knit,  loosely  built,  athletic 
figure  of  this  strong  young  man — his  only  son — as 
though  searching  for  some  support  in  the  youthful 
strength  he  gazed  upon. 

He  said,  very  deliberately,  but  with  a  voice  not  per 
fectly  steady: 

"  Matters  are  not  going  very  well,  my  boy." 

"  What  matters,  father?  " 

"  Down-town." 

"  Yes,  I've  heard.  But,  after  all,  you  people  in  the 
Half  Moon  need  only  crawl  into  your  shell  and  lie  still." 

"  Yes." 

After  a  silence: 

"  Father,  have  you  any  outside  matters  that  trouble 
you?" 

"  There  are — some." 

"  You  are  not  involved  seriously?  " 

His  father  made  an  effort :  "  I  think  not,  Duane." 

"  Oh,  all  right.  If  you  were,  I  was  going  to  sug 
gest  that  I've  deposited  what  I  have,  subject  to  your 
order,  with  your  own  cashier." 

"  That  is — very  kind  of  you,  my  son.  I  may — find 
use  for  it — for  a  short  time.  Would  you  take  my 
note?  " 

Duane  laughed.  He  went  on  presently :  "  I  wrote 
Naida  the  other  day.  She  has  given  me  power  of  attor 
ney.  What  she  has  is  there,  any  time  you  need  it." 

His  father  hung  his  head  in  silence ;  only  his  colour 
less  and  shrunken  hands  worked  on  the  arms  of  his  chair. 

"  See  here,  father,"  said  the  young  fellow ;  "  don't 
let  this  thing  bother  you.  Anything  that  could  possibly 
happen  is  better  than  to  have  you  look  and  feel  as  you 
do.  Suppose  the  very  worst  happens — which  it  won't — 
but  suppose  it  did  and  we  all  went  gaily  to  utter  smash. 

329 


"  That  is  a  detail  compared  with  your  going  to 
smash  physically.  Because  Nai'da  and  I  never  did  con 
sider  such  things  vital;  and  mother  is  a  brick  when  it 
comes  to  a  show-down.  And  as  for  me,  why,  if  the  very 
worst  hits  us,  I  can  take  care  of  our  bunch.  It's  in  me 
to  do  it.  I  suppose  you  don't  think  so.  But  I  can  make 
money  enough  to  keep  us  together,  and,  after  all,  that's 
the  main  thing." 

His  father  said  nothing. 

"  Of  course,"  laughed  Duane,  "  I  don't  for  a  mo 
ment  suppose  that  anything  like  that  is  on  the  cards. 
I  don't  know  what  your  fortune  is,  but  judging  from 
your  generosity  to  Nai'da  and  me  I  fancy  it's  too  solid 
to  worry  over.  The  trouble  with  you  gay  old  capi 
talists,"  he  added,  "  is  that  you  think  in  such  enormous 
sums!  And  you  forget  that  little  sums  are  required 
to  make  us  all  very  happy ;  and  if  some  of  the  millions 
which  you  cannot  possibly  ever  use  happen  to  escape 
you,  the  tragic  aspect  as  it  strikes  you  is  out  of  all 
proportion  to  the  real  state  of  the  case." 

His  father  felt  the  effort  his  son  was  making; 
looked  up  wearily,  strove  to  smile,  to  relight  his  cigar ; 
which  Duane  did  for  him,  saying: 

"  As  long  as  you  are  not  mixed  up  in  that  Klawber, 
Skelton,  Moebus  crowd,  I'm  not  inclined  to  worry.  It 
seems,  as  of  course  you  know,  that  Dysart's  brokers 
failed  to-day." 

"  So  I  heard,"  said  his  father  steadily.  He  straight 
ened  himself  in  his  chair.  "  I  am  sorry.  Mr.  Green- 
sleeve  is  a  very  old  friend " 

The  library  telephone  rang ;  the  second  man  entered 
and  asked  if  Colonel  Mallett  could  speak  to  Mr.  Dysart 
over  the  wire  on  a  matter  concerning  the  Yo  Espero 
district. 

330 


THE   PROPHETS 


Duane,  astonished,  sprang  up  asking  if  he  might 
not  take  the  message;  then  shrank  aside  as  his  father 
got  to  his  feet.  He  saw  the  ghastly  pallor  on  his  face 
as  his  father  passed  him,  moving  toward  the  library; 
stood  motionless  in  troubled  amazement,  then  walked  to 
the  open  window  of  the  conservatory  and,  leaning  there, 
waited. 

His  father  did  not  return.     Later  a  servant  came: 
"  Colonel  Mallett  has  retired,  Mr.  Duane,  and  begs 
that  he  be  undisturbed,  as  he  is  very  tired." 


CHAPTER    XV 

DYSART 

THE  possibility  that  his  father  could  be  involved  in 
any  of  the  spectacular  schemes  which  had  evidently 
caught  Dysart,  seemed  so  remote  that  Duane's  incredu 
lity  permitted  him  to  sleep  that  night,  though  the  name 
Yo  Espero  haunted  his  dreams. 

But  in  the  morning,  something  he  read  in  the  paper 
concerning  a  vast  enterprise,  involving  the  control  of 
the  new  radium  mines  in  Southern  California,  startled 
him  into  trying  to  recollect  what  he  had  heard  of  Yo 
Espero  and  the  Cascade  Development  and  Securities 
Company.  Tainting  its  title  the  sinister  name  of 
Moebus  seemed  to  reoccur  persistently  in  his  confused 
imagination.  Dysart's  name,  too,  figured  in  it.  And, 
somehow,  he  conceived  an  idea  that  his  father  once  re 
ceived  some  mining  engineer's  reports  covering  the  mat 
ter;  he  even  seemed  to  remember  that  Guy  Wilton  had 
been  called  into  consultation. 

Whatever  associations  he  had  for  the  name  of  the 
Cascade  Development  and  Securities  Company  must 
have  originated  in  Paris  the  year  before  his  father 
returned  to  America.  It  seemed  to  him  that  Wilton 
had  been  in  Spain  that  year  examining  the  recent  and 
marvellously  rich  radium  find;  and  that  his  father 
and  Wilton  exchanged  telegrams  very  frequently  con 
cerning  a  mine  in  Southern  California  known  as  Yo 
Espero. 


DYSAET 

His  father  breakfasted  in  his  room  that  morning, 
but  when  he  appeared  in  the  library  Duane  was  relieved 
to  notice  that  his  step  was  firmer  and  he  held  himself 
more  erect,  although  his  extreme  pallor  had  not  changed 
to  a  healthier  colour. 

"  You  know,"  said  Duane,  "  you've  simply  got  to 
get  out  of  town  for  a  while.  It's  all  bally  rot,  your 
doing  this  sort  of  thing." 

"  I  may  go  West  for  a  few  weeks,"  said  his  father 
absently. 

"  Are  you  going  down-town  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  And,  Duane,  if  you  don't  mind  letting 
me  have  the  house  to  myself  this  morning " 

He  hesitated,  glancing  from  his  son  to  the  tele 
phone. 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Duane  heartily.  "  I'm  off 
to  the  studio " 

"  I  don't  mean  to  throw  you  out,"  murmured  his 
father  with  a  painful  attempt  to  smile,  "  but  there's  a 
stenographer  coming  from  my  office  and  several — busi 
ness  acquaintances." 

The  young  fellow  rose,  patted  his  father's  shoulder 
lightly : 

"  What  is  really  of  any  importance,"  he  said,  "  is 
that  you  keep  your  health  and  spirits.  What  I  said 
last  night  covers  my  sentiments.  If  I  can  do  anything 
in  the  world  for  you,  tell  me." 

His  father  took  the  outstretched  hand,  lifted  his 
faded  eyes  with  a  strange  dumb  look;  and  so  they 
parted. 

On  Fifth  Avenue  and  Fifty-ninth  Street,  Duane, 
swinging  along  at  a  good  pace,  turned  westward,  and 
half-way  to  Sixth  Avenue  encountered  Guy  Wilton 
going  east,  a  packet  under  one  arm,  stick  and  hat  in  the 

333 


other  hand,  the  summer  wind  blowing  the  thick  curly 
hair  from  his  temples. 

"  Ah,"  observed  Wilton,  "  early  bird  and  worm,  I 
suppose?  Don't  try  to  bolt  me,  Duane;  I'm  full  of 
tough  and  undigested — er — problems,  myself.  Besides, 
I'm  fermenting.  Did  you  ever  silently  ferment  while 
listening  politely  to  a  man  you  wanted  to  assault?" 

Duane  laughed,  then  his  eye  by  accident,  caught  a 
superscription  on  the  packet  of  papers  under  Wilton's 
arm:  Yo  Espero!  His  glance  reverted  in  a  flash  to 
Wilton's  face. 

The  latter  said :  "  I  want  to  write  a  book  entitled 
'  Gentleman  I  Have  Kicked.'  Of  course  I've  only 
kicked  'em  mentally ;  but  my !  what  a  list  I  have ! — all 
sorts,  all  nations — from  certain  domestic  and  preda 
tory  statesmen  to  the  cad  who  made  his  beautiful  and 
sensitive  mistress  notorious  in  a  decadent  novel! — all 
kinds,  Duane,  have  I  kicked  mentally  I've  just  used 
my  foot  on  another  social  favorite " 

"  Dysart ! "  said  Duane,  inspired,  and,  turning 
painfully  red,  begged  Wilton's  pardon. 

"  You've  sure  got  a  disconcerting  way  with  you,'* 
admitted  Wilton,  very  much  out  of  countenance. 

"  It  was  rotten  bad  taste  in  me " 

Wilton  grinned  with  a  wry  face :  "  Nobody  is 
standing  much  on  ceremony  these  days.  Besides,  I'm 
on  to  your  trail,  young  man  " — tapping  the  bundle 
under  his  arm — "  your  eye  happened  to  catch  that 
superscription;  no  doubt  your  father  has  talked  to 
you;  and  you  came  to — a  rather  embarrassing  con 
clusion." 

Duane's  serious  face  fell: 

"  My  father  and  I  have  not  talked  on  that  subject, 
Guy.  Are  you  going  up  to  see  him  now  ?  " 

334 


DYSART 

Wilton  hesitated :  "  I  suppose  I  am.  .  .  .  See  here, 
Duane,  how  much  do  you  know  about — anything?  " 

"  Nothing,"  he  said  without  humour ;  "  I'm  begin 
ning  to  worry  over  my  father's  health.  .  .  .  Guy, 
don't  tell  me  anything  that  my  father's  son  ought  not 
to  know;  but  is  there  something  I  should  know  and 
don't? — anything  in  which  I  could  possibly  be  of  help 
to  my  father?  " 

Wilton  looked  carefully  at  a  distant  policeman  for 
nearly  a  minute,  then  his  meditative  glance  became 
focussed  on  vacancy. 

"  I — don't — know,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I'm  going 
to  see  your  father  now.  If  there  is  anything  to  tell,  I 
think  he  ought  to  tell  it  to  you.  Don't  you?  " 

"  Yes.  But  he  won't.  Guy,  I  don't  care  a  damn 
about  anything  except  his  health  and  happiness.  If 
anything  threatens  either,  he  won't  tell  me,  but  don't 
you  think  I  ought  to  know?  " 

"  You  ask  too  hard  a  question  for  me  to  answer." 

"  Then  can  you  answer  me  this  ?  Is  father  at  all  in 
volved  in  any  of  Jack  Dysart's  schemes  ?  " 

"  I — had  better  not  answer,  Duane." 

"  You  know  best.  You  understand  that  it  is  noth 
ing  except  anxiety  for  his  personal  condition  that  I 
thought  warranted  my  butting  into  his  affairs  and 
yours." 

"  Yes,  I  understand.  Let  me  think  over  things  for 
a  day  or  two.  Now  I've  got  to  hustle.  Good-bye." 

He  hastened  on  eastward;  Duane  went  west,  slowly, 
more  slowly,  halted,  head  bent  in  troubled  concentration ; 
then  he  wheeled  in  his  tracks  with  nervous  decision, 
walked  back  to  the  Plaza  Club,  sent  for  a  cab,  and  pres 
ently  rattled  off  up-town. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  cab  swung  east  and  came  to 
835 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


a  standstill  a  few  doors  from  Fifth  Avenue ;  and  Duane 
sprang  out  and  touched  the  button  at  a  bronze  grille. 

The  servant  who  admitted  him  addressed  him  by 
name  with  smiling  deference  and  ushered  him  into  a 
two-room  reception  suite  beyond  the  tiny  elevator. 

There  was  evidently  somebody  in  the  second  room; 
Duane  had  also  noticed  a  motor  waiting  outside  as  he 
descended  from  his  cab ;  so  he  took  a  seat  and  sat  twirl 
ing  his  walking-stick  between  his  knees,  gloomily  in 
specting  a  room  which,  in  pleasanter  days,  had  not  been 
unfamiliar  to  him. 

Instead  of  the  servant  returning,  there  came  a  click 
from  the  elevator,  a  quick  step,  and  the  master  of  the 
house  himself  walked  swiftly  into  the  room  wearing  hat 
and  gloves. 

"What  do  you  want?  "  he  inquired  briefly. 

"  I  want  to  ask  you  a  question  or  two,"  said  Duane, 
shocked  at  the  change  in  Dysart's  face.  Haggard, 
thin,  snow-white  at  the  temples  with  the  light  in  his 
eyes  almost  extinct,  the  very  precision  and  freshness  of 
linen  and  clothing  brutally  accentuated  the  ravaged 
features. 

"  What  questions  ?  "  demanded  Dysart,  still  stand 
ing,  and  without  any  emotion  whatever  in  either  voice 
or  manner. 

"  The  first  is  this :  are  you  in  communication  with 
my  father  concerning  mining  stock  known  as  Yo 
Espero?" 

"  I  am." 

"  Is  my  father  involved  in  any  business  transactions 
in  which  you  figure,  or  have  figured  ?  " 

"  There  are  some.    Yes." 

"  Is  the  Cascade  Development  and  Securities  Co. 
one  of  them?  " 

336 


DYSART 

"  Yes,  it  is." 

Duane's  lips  were  dry  with  fear ;  he  swallowed,  con 
trolled  the  rising  anger  that  began  to  twitch  at  his 
throat,  and  went  on  in  a  low,  quiet  voice : 

"  Is  this  man — Moebus — connected  with  any  of 
these  transactions  in  which  you  and — and  my  father  are 
interested?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Is  Klawber?" 

"  Max  Moebus,  Emanuel  Klawber,  James  Skelton, 
and  Amos  Flack  are  interested.  Is  that  what  you  want 
to  know  ?  " 

Duane  looked  at  him,  stunned.  Dysart  stepped 
nearer,  speaking  almost  in  a  whisper: 

"  Well,  what  about  it  ?  Once  I  warned  you  to  keep 
your  damned  nose  out  of  my  personal  affairs " 

"  I  make  some  of  them  mine ! "  said  Duane  sharply ; 
"  when  crooks  get  hold  of  an  honest  man,  every  citizen 
is  a  policeman !  " 

Dysart,  face  convulsed  with  fury,  seized  his  arm  in 
a  vicelike  grip: 

"  Will  you  keep  your  cursed  mouth  shut ! "  he 
breathed.  "  My  father  is  in  the  next  room.  Do  you 
want  to  kill  him?  " 

At  the  same  moment  there  came  a  stir  from  the 
room  beyond,  the  tap-tap  of  a  cane  and  shuffling  steps 
across  the  polished  parquet.  Dysart's  grip  relaxed,  his 
hand  fell  away,  and  he  made  a  ghastly  grimace  as  a 
little  old  gentleman  came  half-trotting,  half-shambling 
to  the  doorway.  He  was  small  and  dapper  and  pink- 
skinned  under  his  wig ;  the  pink  was  paint ;  his  lips  and 
eyes  peered  and  simpered;  from  one  bird-claw  hand 
dangled  a  monocle. 

Jack  Dysart  made  a  ghastly  and  supreme  effort: 
337 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  was  just  saying  to  Duane,  father,  that  all  this 
financial  agitation  is  bound  to  blow  over  by  December — 
Duane  Mallett,  father !  " — as  the  old  man  raised  his  eye 
glass  and  peeped  up  at  the  young  fellow — "  you  know 
his  father,  Colonel  Mallett." 

"  Yes,  to  be  sure,  yes,  to  be  sure !  "  piped  the  old 
beau.  "  How-de-do !  How-de-do-o-o !  My  son  Jack 
and  I  motor  every  morning  at  this  hour.  It  is  becom 
ing  a  custom — he !  he ! — every  day  from  ten  to  eleven — 
then  a  biscuit  and  a  glass  of  sherry — then  a  nap — 
te-he!  Oh,  yes,  every  day,  Mr.  Mallett,  rain  or  fair — 
then  luncheon  at  one,  and  the  cigarette — te-he! — and  a 
little  sleep — and  the  drive  at  five !  Yes,  Mr.  Mallett,  it 
is  the  routine  of  a  very  old  man  who  knew  your  grand 
father — and  all  his  set — when  the  town  was  gay  below 
Bleecker  Street !  Yes,  yes — te-he-he !  " 

Nervous  spasms  which  passed  as  smiles  distorted  the 
younger  Dysart's  visage;  the  aged  beau  offered  his 
hand  to  Duane,  who  took  it  in  silence,  his  eyes  fixed  on 
the  shrivelled,  painted  face: 

"  Your  grandfather  was  a  very  fine  man,"  he  piped ; 
"  very  fine !  ve-ery  fine !  And  so  I  perceive  is  his  grand 
son — te-he! — and  I  flatter  myself  that  my  boy  Jack  is 
not  unadmired — te-he-he! — no,  no — not  precisely  unno 
ticed  in  New  York — the  town  whose  history  is  the  his 
tory  of  his  own  race,  Mr.  Mallett — he  is  a  good  son  to 
me — yes,  yes,  a  good  son.  It  is  gratifying  to  me  to 
know  that  you  are  his  friend.  He  is  a  good  friend  to 
have,  Mr.  Mallett,  a  good  friend  and  a  good  son." 

Duane  bent  gently  over  the  shrivelled  hand. 

"  I  won't  detain  you  from  your  drive,  Mr.  Dysart. 
I  hope  you  will  have  a  pleasant  one.  It  is  a  pleasure  to 
know  my  grandfather's  old  friends.  Good-bye." 

And,  erect,  he  hesitated  a  moment,  then,  for  an  old 
338 


DYSART 

man's  sake  he  held  out  his  hand  to  Jack  Dysart,  bidding 
him  good-bye  in  a  pleasant  voice  pitched  clear  and  de 
cided,  so  that  deaf  ears  might  corroborate  what  half- 
blind  and  peering  eyes  so  dimly  beheld. 

Dysart  walked  to  the  door  with  him,  waved  the  ser 
vant  aside,  and,  laying  a  shaking  hand  on  the  bronze 
knob,  opened  the  door  for  his  unbidden  guest. 

As  Duane  passed  him  he  said: 

"  Thank  you,  Mallett,"  in  a  voice  so  low  that  Duane 
was  half-way  to  his  cab  before  he  understood. 

That  day,  and  the  next,  and  all  that  week  he  worked 
in  his  pitlike  studio.  Through  the  high  sky-window  a 
cloudless  zenith  brooded;  the  heat  became  terrific;  ex 
cept  for  the  inevitable  crush  of  the  morning  and  even 
ing  migration  south  and  north,  the  streets  were  almost 
empty  under  a  blazing  sun. 

His  father  seemed  to  be  physically  better.  Al 
though  he  offered  no  confidences,  it  appeared  to  the 
son  that  there  was  something  a  little  more  cheerful 
in  his  voice  and  manner.  It  may  have  been  only  the 
anticipation  of  departure;  for  he  was  going  West  in 
a  day  or  two,  and  it  came  out  that  Wilton  was  going 
with  him. 

The  day  he  left,  Duane  drove  him  to  the  station. 
There  was  a  private  car,  the  "  Cyane,"  attached  to  the 
long  train.  Wilton  met  them,  spoke  pleasantly  to 
Duane;  but  Colonel  Mallett  did  not  invite  his  son  to 
enter  the  car,  and  adieux  were  said  where  they  stood. 

As  the  young  fellow  turned  and  passed  beneath  the 
car-windows,  he  caught  a  glimpse  above  him  of  a  heavy- 
jowled,  red  face  into  which  a  cigar  was  stuck — a  per 
fectly  enormous  expanse  of  face  with  two  little  piglike 
eyes  almost  buried  in  the  mottled  fat. 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  That's  Max  Moebus,"  observed  a  train  hand  re 
spectfully,  as  Duane  passed  close  to  him ;  "  I  guess 
there's  more  billions  into  that  there  private  car  than 
old  Pip's  crowd  can  dig  out  of  their  pants  pockets  on 
pay  day." 

A  little,  dry-faced,  chin-whiskered  man  with  a  loose 
pot-belly  and  thin  legs  came  waddling  along,  followed 
by  two  red-capped  negroes  with  his  luggage.  He 
climbed  up  the  steps  of  the  "  Cyane  " ;  the  train  man 
winked  at  Duane,  who  had  turned  to  watch  him. 

"  Amos  Flack,"  he  said.  "  He's  their  « lobbygow.'  " 
With  which  contemptuous  information  he  spat  upon  the 
air-brakes  and,  shoving  both  hands  into  his  pockets, 
meditatively  jingled  a  bunch  of  keys. 

The  club  was  absolutely  deserted  that  night ;  Duane 
dined  there  alone,  then  wandered  into  the  great  empty 
room  facing  Fifth  Avenue,  his  steps  echoing  sharply 
across  the  carpetless  floor.  The  big  windows  were 
open ;  there  was  thunder  in  the  air — the  sonorous  still 
ness  in  which  voices  and  footsteps  in  the  street  ring  out 
ominously. 

He  smoked  and  watched  the  dim  forms  of  those 
whom  the  heat  drove  forth  into  the  night,  men  with 
coats  over  their  arms  and  straw  hats  in  their  hands, 
young  girls  thinly  clad  in  white,  bare-headed,  moving 
two  and  two  with  dragging  steps  and  scarcely  spirit  left 
even  for  common  coquetry  or  any  response  to  the  jest 
ing  oafs  who  passed. 

Here  and  there  a  cruising  street-dryad  threaded  the 
by-paths  of  the  metropolitan  jungle;  here  and  there  a 
policeman,  gray  helmet  in  hand,  stood  mopping  his  face, 
night-club  tucked  up  snugly  under  one  arm.  Few  cabs 
were  moving ;  at  intervals  a  creaking,  groaning  omnibus 

340 


DYSART 

rolled  past,  its  hurricane  deck  white  with  the  fluttering 
gowns  of  women  and  young  girls. 

Somebody  came  into  the  room  behind  him;  Duane 
turned,  but  could  not  distinguish  who  it  was  in  the  dusk. 
A  little  while  later  the  man  came  over  to  where  he  sat, 
and  he  looked  up;  and  it  was  Dysart. 

There  was  silence  for  a  full  minute;  Dysart  stood 
by  the  window  looking  out ;  Duane  paid  him  no  further 
attention  until  he  wheeled  slowly  and  said: 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  have  a  word  with  you,  Mallett  ?  " 

"  Not  if  it  is  necessary." 

"  I  don't  know  whether  it  is  necessary." 

"  Don't  bother  about  it  if  you  are  in  the  slightest 
doubt." 

Dysart  waited  a  moment,  perhaps  for  some  unpleas 
ant  emotion  to  subside;  then: 

"  I'll  sit  down  a  moment,  if  you  permit." 

He  dropped  into  one  of  the  big,  deep,  leather  chairs 
and  touched  the  bell.  A  servant  came ;  he  looked  across 
at  Duane,  hesitated  to  speak: 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Duane  curtly.  "  I've  cut  it 
out." 

"  Scotch.  Bring  the  decanter,"  murmured  Dysart 
to  the  servant. 

When  it  was  served  he  drained  the  glass,  refilled  it, 
and  turned  in  the  rest  of  the  mineral  water.  Before  he 
spoke  he  emptied  the  glass  again  and  rang  for  more 
mineral  water.  Then  he  looked  at  Duane  and  said  in  a 
low  voice: 

"  I  thought  you  were  worried  the  other  day  when  I 
saw  you  at  my  house." 

"What  is  that  to  you?" 

Dysart  said :  "  You  were  very  kind — under  provo 
cation." 

341 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  I  was  not  kind  on  your  account." 

"  I  understand.     But  I  don't  forget  such  things." 

Duane  glanced  at  him  in  profound  contempt.  Here 
was  the  stereotyped  scoundrel  with  the  classical  saving 
trait — the  one  conventionally  inevitable  impulse  for 
good  shining  like  a  diamond  on  a  muck-heap — his  ap 
parently  disinterested  affection  for  his  father. 

"  You  were  very  decent  to  me  that  day,"  Dysart 
said.  "  You  had  something  to  say  to  me — but  were 
good  enough  not  to.  I  came  over  to-night  to  give  you 
a  chance  to  curse  me  out.  It's  the  square  thing  to  do." 

"What  do  you  know  about  square  dealing?  " 

"  Go  on." 

"  I  have  nothing  to  add." 

"  Then  I  have  if  you'll  let  me."  He  paused ;  the 
other  remained  silent.  "  I've  this  to  say :  you  are  wor 
ried  sick ;  I  saw  that.  What  worries  you  concerns  your 
father.  You  were  merciful  to  mine.  I'll  do  what  I  can 
for  you." 

He  swallowed  half  of  what  remained  in  his  iced 
glass,  set  it  back  on  the  table  with  fastidious  precision : 

"  The  worst  that  can  happen  to  your  father  is  to 
lose  control  of  the  Yo  Espero  property.  I  think  he  is 
going  to  lose  it.  They've  crowded  me  out.  If  I  could 
have  endured  the  strain  I'd  have  stood  by  your  father — 
for  what  you  did  for  mine.  .  .  .  But  I  couldn't,  Mal- 
lett." 

He  moistened  his  lips  again ;  leaned  forward : 

"  I  think  I  know  one  thing  about  you,  anyway ;  and 
I'm  not  afraid  you'd  ever  use  any  words  of  mine  against 
me " 

"  Don't  say  them ! "  retorted  Duane  sharply. 

But  Dysart  went  on : 

"  You  have  no  respect  for  me.  You  found  out  one 
342 


DYSART 

thing  about  me  that  settled  me  in  your  opinion.     Out 
side  of  that,  however,  you  never  liked  me." 

"  That  is  perfectly  true." 

"  I  know  it.  And  I  want  to  say  now  that  it  was 
smouldering  irritation  from  that  source — wounded  van 
ity,  perhaps — coupled  with  worry  and  increasing  cares, 
that  led  to  that  outburst  of  mine.  I  never  really  be 
lieved  that  my  wife  needed  any  protection  from  the  sort 
of  man  you  are.  You  are  not  that  kind." 

"  That  also  is  true." 

"  And  I  know  it.  And  now  I've  cleared  up  these 
matters;  and  there's  another."  He  bit  his  lip,  thought 
a  moment,  then  with  a  deep,  long  breath : 

"  When  you  struck  me  that  night  I — deserved  it.  I 
was  half  crazy,  I  think — with  what  I  had  done — with 
a  more  material  but  quite  as  ruinous  situation  develop 
ing  here  in  town — with  domestic  complications — never 
mind  where  all  the  fault  lay — it  was  demoralising  me. 
Do  you  think  that  I  am  not  perfectly  aware  that  I 
stand  very  much  alone  among  men?  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  am  not  aware  of  my  personal  unpopularity  as 
far  as  men  are  concerned  ?  I  have  never  had  an  intimate 
friend — except  Delancy  Grandcourt.  And  I've  treated 
him  like  a  beast.  There's  something  wrong  about  me; 
there  always  has  been." 

He  slaked  his  thirst  again ;  his  hand  shook  so  that  he 
nearly  dropped  the  glass : 

"  Which  is  preliminary,"  he  went  on,  "  to  saying  to 
you  that  no  matter  what  I  said  in  access  of  rage,  I  never 
doubted  that  your  encounter  with — Miss  Quest — was 
an  accident.  I  never  doubted  that  your  motive  in  com 
ing  to  me  was  generous.  God  knows  why  I  said  what  I 
did  say.  You  struck  me ;  and  you  were  justified.  .  .  . 
And  that  clears  up  that ! " 

28  343 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Dysart,"  said  the  other,  "  you  don't  have  to  tell 
me  these  things." 

"  Would  you  rather  not  have  heard  them  ?  " 

Duane  thought  a  moment. 

"  I  would  rather  have  heard  them,  I  believe." 

"Then  may  I  go  on?" 

"  Is  there  anything  more  to  explain  between  us  ?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  But  I  would  like  to  say  something — in 
my  own  behalf.  Not  that  it  matters  to  you — or  to  any 
man,  perhaps,  except  my  father.  I  would  like  to  say  it, 
Mallett." 

"  Very  well." 

"  Then ;  I  prefer  that  you  should  believe  I  am  not 
a  crook.  Not  that  it  matters  to  you ;  but  I  prefer  that 
you  do  not  believe  it.  ...  You  have  read  enough  in  the 
papers  to  know  what  I  mean.  I'm  telling  you  now  what 
I  have  never  uttered  to  any  man;  and  I  haven't  the 
slightest  fear  you  will  repeat  it  or  use  it  in  any  manner 
to  my  undoing.  It  is  this : 

"  The  men  with  whom  I  was  unwise  enough  to  be 
come  partially  identified  are  marked  for  destruction  by 
the  Clearing  House  Committee  and  by  the  Federal  Gov 
ernment.  I  know  it;  others  know  it.  Which  means  the 
ruthless  elimination  of  anything  doubtful  which  in 
future  might  possibly  compromise  the  financial  stability 
of  this  city. 

"  It  is  a  brutal  programme ;  the  policy  they  are  pur 
suing  is  bitterly  unjust.  Innocent  and  guilty  alike  are 
going  to  suffer;  I  never  in  all  my  life  consciously  did 
a  crooked  thing  in  business ;  and  yet  I  say  to  you  now 
that  these  people  are  bent  on  my  destruction ;  that  they 
mean  to  force  us  to  close  the  doors  of  the  Algonquin ; 
that  they  are  planning  the  ruin  of  every  corporation, 
every  company,  every  bank,  every  enterprise  with  which 

344 


DYSAET 

I  am  connected,  merely  because  they  have  decreed  the 
financial  death  of  Moebus  and  Klawber ! " 

He  made  a  trembling  gesture  with  clenched  hand, 
and  leaned  farther  forward: 

"  Mallett !  There  is  not  one  man  to-day  in  Wall 
Street  who  has  not  done,  and  who  is  not  doing  daily, 
the  very  things  for  which  the  government  officials  and 
the  Clearing  House  authorities  are  attempting  to  get 
rid  of  me.  Their  attacks  on  my  securities  will  ulti 
mately  ruin  me;  but  such  attacks  would  ruin  any  finan 
cier,  any  bank  in  the  United  States,  if  continued  long 
enough. 

"  Doesn't  anybody  know  that  when  the  government 
conspires  with  the  Clearing  House  officials  any  security 
can  be  kicked  out  of  the  market?  Don't  they  know  that 
when  bank  examiners  class  any  securities  as  undesirable, 
and  bank  officials  throw  them  out  from  the  loans  of  such 
institutions,  that  they're  not  worth  the  match  struck  to 
burn  them  into  nothing? 

"  If  they  mean  to  close  my  companies  and  bring 
charges  against  me,  I'll  tell  you  now,  Mallett,  any 
official  of  any  bank  which  to-day  is  in  operation,  can  be 
indicted!" 

He  sat  breathing  fast,  hands  clasped  nervously  be 
tween  his  knees.  Duane,  painfully  impressed,  waited. 
And  after  a  moment  Dysart  spoke  again : 

"  They  mean  my  ruin.  There  is  a  bank  examiner  at 
work — this  very  moment  while  we're  sitting  here — on 
the  Collect  Pond  Bank — which  is  mine.  The  Federal  in 
quisitors  went  through  it  once;  now  a  new  one  is  back 
again.  They  found  nothing  with  which  to  file  an  ad 
verse  report  the  first  time.  Why  did  they  come  back? 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  another  thing,  Mallett,  which 
may  seem  a  slight  reason  for  my  sullenness  and  quick 

345 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


temper ;  they've  had  secret-service  men  following  me 
ever  since  I  returned  from  Roya-Neh.  They  are  into 
everything  that  I've  ever  been  connected  with;  there  is 
no  institution,  no  security  in  which  I  am  interested,  that 
they  have  not  investigated. 

"  And  I  tell  you  also,  incredible  as  it  may  sound, 
that  there  is  no  security  in  which  I  am  interested  which 
is  not  now  being  attacked  by  government  officials,  and 
which,  as  a  result  of  such  attacks,  is  not  depreciating 
daily.  I  tell  you  they've  even  approached  the  United 
States  Court  for  its  consent  to  a  ruinous  disposal  of 
certain  corporation  notes  in  which  I  am  interested! 
Will  you  tell  me  what  you  think  of  that,  Mallett  ?  " 

Duane  said :  "  I  don't  know,  Dysart.  I  know  almost 
nothing  about  such  matters.  And — I  am  sorry  that 
you  are  in  trouble." 

The  silence  remained  unbroken  for  some  time;  then 
Dysart  stood  up: 

"  I  don't  offer  you  my  hand.  You  took  it  once  for 
my  father's  sake.  That  was  manly  of  you,  Mallett.  .  .  . 
I  thought  perhaps  I  might  lighten  your  anxiety  about 
your  father.  I  hope  I  have.  .  .  .  And  I  must  ask  your 
pardon  for  pressing  my  private  affairs  upon  you  " — he 
laughed  mirthlessly — "  merely  because  I'd  rather  you 
didn't  think  me  a  crook — for  my  father's  sake.  .  .  . 
Good-night." 

"  Dysart,"  he  said,  "  why  in  God's  name  have  you 
behaved  as  you  have  to — that  girl?  " 

Dysart  stood  perfectly  motionless,  then  in  a  voice 
under  fair  control: 

"  I  understand  you.  You  don't  intend  that  as  im 
pertinence;  you're  a  square  man,  Mallett — a  man  who 
suffers  under  the  evil  in  others.  And  your  question  to 
me  meant  that  you  thought  me  not  entirely  hopeless ; 

346 


DYSART      

that  there  was  enough  of  decency  in  me  to  arouse  your 
interest.    Isn't  that  what  you  meant?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  answer  you.  There  isn't  much  left 
of  me;  there'll  be  less  left  of  my  fortune  before  long. 
I've  made  a  failure  of  everything,  fortune,  friendship, 
position,  happiness.  My  wife  and  I  are  separated ;  it  is 
club  gossip,  I  believe.  She  will  probably  sue  for  divorce 
and  get  it.  And  I  ask  you,  because  I  don't  know,  can 
any  amends  be  made  to — the  person  you  mentioned — by 
my  offering  her  the  sort  and  condition  of  man  I  now 
am?" 

"  You've  got  to,  haven't  you  ?  "  asked  Duane. 

"  Oh!    Is  that  it?    A  sort  of  moral  formality?  " 

"  It's  conventional ;  yes.     It's  expected." 

"By  whom?" 

"  All  the  mess  that  goes  to  make  up  this  compost 
heap  we  call  society.  ...  I  think  she  also  would  ex 
pect  it." 

Dysart  nodded. 

"  If  you  could  make  her  happy  it  would  square  a 
great  many  things,  Dysart." 

The  other  looked  up:  "You?" 

"  I — don't  know.  Yes,  in  many  ways ;  in  that  way 
at  all  events — if  you  made  her  happy." 

Dysart  stepped  forward :  "  Would  you  be  nice  to 
her  if  I  did?  No  other  soul  in  the  world  knows  except 
you.  Other  people  would  be  nice  to  her.  Would  you? 
And  would  you  have  the  woman  you  marry  receive 
her?" 

"  Yes." 

"  That  is  square  of  you,  Mallett.  ...  I  meant  to 
do  it,  anyway.  .  .  .  Thank  you.  .  .  .  Good-night." 

"  Good-night,"  said  Duane  in  a  low  voice. 
347 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


He  returned  to  the  house  late  that  night,  and  found 
a  letter  from  Geraldine  awaiting  him;  the  first  in  three 
days.  Seated  at  the  library  table  he  opened  the  letter 
and  saw  at  once  that  the  red-pencilled  cross  at  the  top 
was  missing. 

Minutes  passed;  the  first  line  blurred  under  his  va 
cant  gaze,  for  his  eyes  travelled  no  farther.  Then  the 
letter  fell  to  the  table;  he  dropped  his  head  in  his  arms. 

It  was  a  curiously  calm  letter  when  he  found  cour 
age  to  read  it : 

"  I've  lost  a  battle  after  many  victories.  It  went 
against  me  after  a  hard  fight  here  alone  at  Roya-Neh. 
I  think  you  had  better  come  up.  The  fight  was  on 
again  the  next  night — that  is,  night  before  last,  but 
I've  held  fast  so  far  and  expect  to.  Only  I  wish  you'd 
come. 

"  It  is  no  reproach  to  you  if  I  say  that,  had  you 
been  here,  I  might  have  made  a  better  fight.  You 
couldn't  be  here;  the  shame  of  defeat  is  all  my  own. 

"  Duane,  it  was  not  a  disastrous  defeat  in  one  way. 
I  held  out  for  four  days,  and  thought  I  had  won  out.  I 
was  stupefied  by  loss  of  sleep,  I  think ;  this  is  not  in  ex 
cuse,  only  the  facts  which  I  lay  bare  for  your  consid 
eration. 

"  The  defeat  was  in  a  way  a  concession — a  half-dazed 
compromise — merely  a  parody  on  a  real  victory  for  the 
enemy;  because  it  roused  in  me  a  horror  that  left  the 
enemy  almost  no  consolation,  no  comfort,  even  no  phys 
ical  relief.  The  enemy  is  I  myself,  you  understand — 
that  other  self  we  know  about. 

"  She  was  perfectly  furious,  Duane ;  she  wrestled 
with  me,  fought  to  make  me  yield  more  than  I  had — 
which  was  almost  nothing — begged  me,  brutalised  me, 

348 


DYSART 

pleaded,  tormented,  cajoled.     I  was  nearly  dead  when 
the  sun  rose ;  but  I  had  gone  through  it. 

"  I  wish  you  could  come.  She  is  still  watching  me. 
It's  an  armed  truce,  but  I  know  she'll  break  it  if  the 
chance  comes.  There  is  no  honour  in  her,  Duane,  no 
faith,  no  reason,  no  mercy.  I  know  her. 

"  Can  you  not  come?  I  won't  ask  it  if  your  father 
needs  you.  Only  if  he  does  not,  I  think  you  had  better 
come  very  soon. 

"  When  may  I  restore  the  red  cross  to  the  top  of  my 
letters  to  you?  I  suppose  I  had  better  place  it  on  the 
next  letter,  because  if  I  do  not  you  might  think  that 
another  battle  had  gone  against  me. 

"  Don't  reproach  me.  I  couldn't  stand  it  just  now. 
Because  I  am  a  very  tired  girl,  Duane,  and  what  has 
happened  is  heavy  in  my  heart — heavy  on  my  head  and 
shoulders  like  that  monster  Sindbad  bore. 

"  Can  you  come  and  free  me?  One  word — your 
arms  around  me — and  I  am  safe. 

"G.  S." 

As  he  finished,  a  maid  came  bearing  a  telegram  on 
a  salver. 

"  Tell  him  to  wait,"  said  Duane,  tearing  open  the 
white  night-message: 

"  Your  father  is  ill  at  San  Antonio  and  wishes  you 
to  come  at  once.  Notify  your  mother  but  do  not  alarm 
her.  Your  father's  condition  is  favorable,  but  the  out 
come  is  uncertain. 

"  WELLS,  Secretary" 

Duane  took  three  telegram  blanks  from  the  note- 
paper  rack  and  wrote: 

349 


"  My  father  is  ill  at  San  Antonio.  They  have  just 
wired  me,  and  I  shall  take  the  first  train.  Stand  by  me 
now.  Win  out  for  my  sake.  I  put  you  on  your  honour 
until  I  can  reach  you." 

And  to  his  father : 

"  I  leave  on  first  train  for  San  Antonio.  It's  going 
to  be  all  right,  father." 

And  to  his  mother: 

"  Am  leaving  for  San  Antonio  because  I  don't  think 
father  is  well  enough  to  travel  alone.  I'll  write  you  and 
wire  you.  Love  to  you  and  Nai'da." 

He  gave  the  maid  the  money,  turned,  and  unhooking 
the  receiver  of  the  telephone,  called  up  the  Grand  Cen 
tral  Station. 


CHAPTER    XVI 

THROUGH    THE    WOODS 

THE  autumn  quiet  at  Roya-Neh  was  intensely  agree 
able  to  Scott  Seagrave.  No  social  demands  interfered 
with  a  calm  and  dignified  contemplation  of  the  Rose- 
beetle,  Melolontha  subspinosa,  and  his  scandalous 
"  Life  History  " ;  there  was  no  chatter  of  girls  from 
hall  and  stairway  to  distract  the  loftier  inspirations  that 
possessed  him,  no  intermittent  soprano  noises  emitted  by 
fluttering  feminine  fashion,  no  calflike  barytones  from 
masculine  adolescence  to  drive  him  to  the  woods,  where 
it  was  always  rather  difficult  for  him  to  focus  his  atten 
tion  on  printed  pages.  The  balm  of  heavenly  silence 
pervaded  the  house,  and  in  its  beneficent  atmosphere  he 
worked  in  his  undershirt,  inhaling  inspiration  and  the 
aroma  of  whale-oil,  soap,  and  carbolic  solutions. 

Neither  Kathleen  nor  his  sister  being  present  to 
limit  his  operations,  the  entire  house  was  becoming  a 
vast  mess.  Living-rooms,  library,  halls,  billiard-room, 
were  obstructed  with  "  scientific  "  paraphernalia ;  hun 
dreds  of  glass  fruit  jars,  filled  with  earth  containing  the 
whitish,  globular  eggs  of  the  Rose-beetle,  encumbered 
mantel  and  furniture;  glass  aquariums  half  full  of 
earth,  sod,  and  youthful  larvae  of  the  same  sinful  beetle 
lent  pleasing  variety  to  the  monotony  of  Scott's  inte 
rior  decorative  effects.  Microscopes,  phials,  shallow 
trays  bristling  with  sprouting  seeds,  watering-cans, 
note-books,  buckets  of  tepid  water,  jars  brimming  with 
24  351 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


chemical  solutions,  blockaded  the  legitimate  and  natural 
runways  of  chamber-maid,  parlour-maid,  and  house 
keeper  ;  a  loud  scream  now  and  then  punctured  the  sci 
entific  silence,  recording  the  Hibernian  discovery  of 
some  large,  green  caterpillar  travelling  casually  some 
where  in  the  house. 

"  Mr.  Seagrave,  sir,"  stammered  Lang,  the  second 
man,  perspiring  horror,  "  your  bedroom  is  full  of 
humming  birds  and  bats,  sir,  and  I  can't  stand  it  no 
more ! " 

But  it  was  only  a  wholesale  hatching  of  huge  hawk- 
moths  that  came  whizzing  around  Lang  when  he  turned 
on  the  electric  lights;  and  which,  escaping,  swarmed 
throughout  the  house,  filling  it  with  their  loud,  feathery 
humming,  and  the  shrieks  of  Milesian  domestics. 

And  it  was  into  these  lively  household  conditions  that 
Kathleen  and  Geraldine  unexpectedly  arrived  from  the 
Berkshires,  worn  out  with  their  round  of  fashionable 
visits,  anxious  for  the  quiet  and  comfort  that  is  sup 
posed  to  be  found  only  under  one's  own  roof-tree. 
This  is  what  they  found : 

In  Geraldine's  bath-tub  a  colony  of  water-lilies  were 
attempting  to  take  root  for  the  benefit  of  several  species 
of  water-beetles.  The  formidable  larvae  of  dragon-flies 
occupied  Kathleen's  bath;  turtles  peered  at  them  from 
vantage  points  under  the  modern  plumbing;  an  enor 
mous  frog  regarded  Kathleen  solemnly  from  the  wet, 
tiled  floor.  "  Oh,  dear,"  she  said  as  Scott  greeted  her 
rapturously,  "  have  I  got  to  move  all  these  horrid 
creatures  ?  " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake  don't  touch  a  thing,"  protested 
Scott,  welcoming  his  sister  with  a  perfunctory  kiss ; 
"  I'll  find  places  for  them  in  a  minute." 

"  How    could   you,    Scott ! "    exclaimed    Geraldine, 
352 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

backing  hastily  away  from  a  branch  of  green  leaves  on 
which  several  gigantic  horned  caterpillars  were  feed 
ing.  "  I  don't  feel  like  ever  sleeping  in  this  room 
again,"  she  added,  exasperated. 

"  Why,  Sis,"  he  explained  mildly,  "  those  are  the 
caterpillars  of  the  magnificent  Regal  moth!  They're 
perfectly  harmless,  and  it's  jolly  to  watch  them  tuck 
away  walnut  leaves.  You'll  like  to  have  them  here  in 
your  room  when  you  understand  how  to  weigh  them  on 
these  bully  little  scales  I've  just  had  sent  up  from 
Tiffany's." 

But  his  sister  was  too  annoyed  and  too  tired  to 
speak.  She  stood  limply  leaning  against  Kathleen  while 
her  brother  disposed  of  his  uncanny  menagerie,  talking 
away  very  cheerfully  all  the  while  absorbed  in  his  grew- 
some  pets. 

But  it  was  not  to  his  sister,  it  was  to  Kathleen  that 
his  pride  in  his  achievements  was  naively  displayed ;  his 
running  accompaniment  of  chatter  was  for  Kathleen's 
benefit,  his  appeals  were  to  her  sympathy  and  under 
standing,  not  to  his  sister's. 

Geraldine  watched  him  in  silence.  Tired,  not  physi 
cally  very  well,  this  home-coming  meant  something  to 
her.  She  had  looked  forward  to  it,  and  to  her  brother, 
unconsciously  wistful  for  the  protection  of  home  and 
kin.  For  the  day  had  been  a  hard  one;  she  was  able 
to  affix  the  red-cross  mark  to  her  letter  to  Duane  that 
morning,  but  it  had  been  a  bad  day  for  her,  very  bad. 

And  now  as  she  stood  there,  white,  nerveless,  fa 
tigued,  an  ache  grew  in  her  breast,  a  dull  desire  for 
somebody  of  her  own  kin  to  lean  on ;  and,  following  it, 
a  slow  realisation  of  how  far  apart  from  her  brother  she 
had  drifted  since  the  old  days  of  cordial  understanding 
in  the  schoolroom — the  days  of  loyal  sympathy  through 

353 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


calm  and  stress,  in  predatory  alliance  or  in  the  frank 
conflicts  of  the  squared  circle. 

Suddenly  her  whole  heart  filled  with  a  blind  need 
of  her  brother's  sympathy — a  desire  to  return  to  the 
old  intimacy  as  though  in  it  there  lay  comfort,  pro 
tection,  sanctuary  for  herself  from  all  that  threatened 
her — herself ! 

Kathleen  was  assisting  Scott  to  envelop  the  frog 
in  a  bath  towel  for  the  benevolent  purpose  of  trans 
planting  him  presently  to  some  other  bath-tub ;  and 
Kathleen's  golden  head  and  Scott's  brown  one  were  very 
close  together,  and  they  were  laughing  in  that  intimate 
undertone  characteristic  of  thorough  understanding. 
Her  brother's  expression  as  he  looked  up  at  Kathleen 
Severn,  was  a  revelation  to  his  sister,  and  it  pierced  her 
with  a  pang  of  loneliness  so  keen  that  she  started  for 
ward  in  sheer  desperation,  as  though  to  force  a  path 
through  something  that  was  pushing  her  away  from 
him. 

"  Let  me  take  his  frogship,"  she  said  with  a  nerv 
ous  laugh.  "  I'll  put  him  into  a  jolly  big  tub  where 
you  can  grow  all  the  water-weeds  you  like,  Scott." 

Her  brother,  surprised  and  gratified,  handed  her  the 
bath-towel  in  the  depths  of  which  reposed  the  batra- 
chian. 

"  He's  really  an  interesting  fellow,  Sis,"  explained 
Scott ;  "  he  exudes  a  sticky,  viscous  fluid  from  his 
pores  which  is  slightly  toxic.  I'm  going  to  try  it  on  a 
Rose-beetle." 

Geraldine  shuddered,  but  forced  a  smile,  and,  holding 
the  imprisoned  one  with  dainty  caution,  bore  him  to 
a  palatial  and  porcelain-lined  bath-tub,  into  which  she 
shook  him  with  determination  and  a  suppressed  shriek. 

That  night  at  dinner  Scott  looked  up  at  his  sister 
354 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

with  something  of  the  old-time  interest  and  con 
fidence. 

"  I  was  pretty  sure  you'd  take  an  interest  in  all 
these  things,  sooner  or  later.  I  tell  you,  Geraldine,  it 
.will  be  half  the  fun  if  you'll  go  into  it  with  us." 

"  I  want  to,"  said  his  sister,  smiling,  "  but  don't 
hurry  my  progress  or  you'll  scare  me  half  to  death." 

The  tragic  necessity  for  occupation,  for  interesting 
herself  in  something  sufficient  to  take  her  out  of  her 
self,  she  now  understood,  and  the  deep  longing  for  the 
love  of  all  she  had  of  kith  and  kin  was  steadily  tight 
ening  its  grip  on  her,  increasing  day  by  day.  Nothing 
else  could  take  its  place ;  she  began  to  understand  that ; 
not  her  intimacy  with  Kathleen,  not  even  her  love  for 
Duane.  Outside  of  these  there  existed  a  zone  of  loneli 
ness  in  which  she  was  doomed  to  wander,  a  zone  peopled 
only  by  the  phantoms  of  the  parents  she  had  never 
known  long  enough  to  remember — a  dreaded  zone  of 
solitude  and  desolation  and  peril  for  her.  The  danger 
line  marked  its  boundary ;  beyond  lay  folly  and  destruc 
tion. 

Little  by  little  Scott  began  to  notice  that  his  sister 
evidently  found  his  company  desirable,  that  she  fol 
lowed  him  about,  watching  his  so-called  scientific  pur 
suits  with  a  curiosity  too  constant  to  be  assumed.  And 
it  pleased  him  immensely ;  and  at  times  he  held  forth  to 
her  and  instructed  her  with  brotherly  condescension. 

He  noticed,  too,  that  her  spirits  did  not  appear  to 
be  particularly  lively ;  there  were  often  long  intervals 
of  silence  when,  together  by  the  window  in  the  library 
where  he  was  fussing  over  his  "  Life  History,"  she  never 
spoke,  never  even  moved  from  her  characteristic  atti 
tude — seated  deep  in  a  leather  chair,  arms  resting  on  the 
padded  chair-arms,  ankles  crossed,  and  her  head  a  trifle 

355 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


lowered,  as  though  absorbed  in  studying  the  Herati  di- 
sign  on  a  Persian  rug. 

Once,  looking  up  suddenly,  he  surprised  her  brown 
eyes  full  of  tears. 

"  Hello !  "  he  said,  amazed ;  "  what's  the  row,  Sis  ?  " 

But  she  only  laughed  and  dried  her  eyes,  denying 
that  there  was  any  explanation  except  that  girls  were 
sometimes  that  way  for  no  reason  at  all. 

One  day .  he  asked  Kathleen  privately  about  this, 
but  she  merely  confirmed  Geraldine's  diagnosis  of  the 
phenomenon : 

"  Tears  come  into  girls'  eyes,"  she  said,  "  and  there 
isn't  anybody  on  earth  who  can  tell  a  man  why,  and 
he  wouldn't  comprehend  it  if  anybody  did  tell  him." 

"  I'll  tell  you  one  thing,"  he  said  sceptically ;  "  if 
Rose-beetles  shed  tears,  I'd  never  rest  until  I  found  out 
why.  You  bet  there's  always  a  reason  that  starts  any 
thing  and  always  somebody  to  find  it  out  and  tell  an 
other  fellow  who  can  understand  it ! " 

With  which  brilliant  burst  of  higher  philosophy 
they  went  out  into  the  October  woods  together  to  hunt 
for  cocoons. 

Geraldine,  rather  flushed  and  nervous,  met  them  at 
Hurryon  Gate,  carrying  a  rifle  and  wearing  the  short 
est  skirts  her  brother  had  ever  beheld.  The  symmetry 
of  her  legs  moved  him  to  reproof: 

"  I  thought  people  looked  that  way  only  in  tailor's 
fashion  plates,"  he  said.  "  What  are  you  after — chip 
munks  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  his  sister.  "  Do  you  know  what 
happened  to  me  an  hour  ago?  I  was  paddling  your 
canoe  into  the  Hurryon  Inlet,  and  I  suppose  I  made 
no  noise  in  disembarking,  and  I  came  right  on  a  baby 
wild  boar  in  the  junipers.  It  was  a  tiny  thing,  not 

356 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

eighteen  inches  long,  Kathleen,  and  so  cunning  and 
furry  and  yellowish,  with  brown  stripes  on  its  back, 
that  I  tried  to  catch  it — just  to  hug  it." 

"  That  was  silly,"  said  her  brother. 

"  I  know  it  was,  now.  Because  I  ran  after  it,  and 
it  ran;  and,  one  by  one,  a  whole  herd  of  the  cunning 
little  things  sprang  out  of  the  hemlock  scrub  and  went 
off  bucking  and  bucketing  in  all  directions,  and  I,  like 
a  simpleton,  hard  after  one  of  them " 

"  Little  idiot,"  said  her  brother  solicitously.  "  Are 
you  stark  mad?  " 

"  No,  I'm  just  plain  mad.  Because,  before  I 
knew  it,  there  came  a  crash  in  the  underbrush  and 
the  biggest,  furriest,  and  wickedest  wild  boar  I  ever 
saw  halted  in  front  of  me,  ears  forward,  every  hair  on 
end " 

"  Lord  save  us,  you  jumped  the  sow !  "  groaned  her 
brother.  "  She  might  have  torn  you  to  pieces,  you 
ninny ! " 

"  She  meant  to,  I  think.  The  next  thing  I  knew  she 
came  headlong,  mouth  open,  fairly  screaming  at  me; 
and  I  turned  and  jumped  clean  into  the  Gray  Water. 
Oh,  Scott,  it  was  humiliating  to  have  to  swim  to  the 
point  with  all  my  clothes  on,  scramble  into  the  canoe,  and 
shove  off  because  a  very  angry  wild  creature  drove  me 
out  of  my  own  woods ! " 

"  Well,  dear,  you  won't  ever  interfere  with  a  sow 
and  pigs  again,  will  you  ?  "  said  Kathleen  so  earnestly 
that  everybody  laughed. 

"What's  the  rifle  for?"  inquired  Scott.  "You 
don't  intend  to  hunt  for  her,  do  you?  " 

"  Of  course  not.  I'm  not  vindictive  or  cruel.  But 
old  Miller  said,  when  I  came  past  the  lodge,  dripping 
wet,  that  the  boar  are  increasing  too  fast  and  that  you 

357 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


ought  to  keep  them  down  either  by  shooting  or  by 
trapping  them,  and  sending  them  to  other  people  for 
stocking  purposes.  The  Pink'uns  want  some;  why 
don't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  shoot  or  trap  them,"  said  Scott 
obstinately. 

"  Miller  says  they  pulled  down  deer  last  winter  and 
tore  them  to  shreds.  Everything  in  the  forest  is  afraid 
of  them ;  they  drive  the  deer  from  the  feeding-grounds, 
and  I  don't  believe  a  lynx  or  even  any  of  the  bear  that 
climb  over  the  fence  would  dare  attack  them." 

Kathleen  said :  "  You  really  ought  to  ask  some  men 
up  here  to  shoot,  Scott.  I  don't  wish  to  be  chased 
about  by  a  boar." 

"  They  never  bother  people,"  he  protested.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do  with  that  rifle,  Geraldine  ?  " 

"  My  nerve  has  gone,"  she  confessed,  laughing ;  "  I 
prefer  to  have  it  with  me  when  I  take  walks.  It's  really 
safer,"  she  added  seriously  to  Kathleen.  "  Miller  says 
that  a  buck  deer  can  be  ugly,  too." 

"  Oh,  Lord ! "  said  her  brother,  laughing ;  "  it's 
only  because  you're  the  prettiest  thing  ever,  in  that 
hunting  dress!  Don't  tell  me;  and  kindly  be  careful 
where  you  point  that  rifle." 

"  As  if  I  needed  instructions ! "  retorted  his  sister. 
"  I  wish  I  could  see  a  boar — a  big  one  with  a  particu 
larly  frightful  temper  and  tusks  to  match." 

"  I'll  bet  you  that  you  can't  kill  a  boar,"  he  said 
in  good-humoured  disdain. 

"  I  don't  see  any  to  kill." 

"  Well,  I  bet  you  can't  find  one.  And  if  you  do,  I 
bet  you  don't  kill  him." 

"  How  long,"  asked  Geraldine  dangerously,  "  does 
that  bet  hold  good?  " 

358 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

"  All  winter,  if  you  like.  It's  the  prettiest  single 
jewel  you  can  pick  out  against  a  new  saddle-horse.  I 
need  a  gay  one ;  I'm  getting  out  of  condition.  And  all 
our  horses  are  as  interesting  as  chevaux  de  bois  when 
the  mechanism  is  freshly  oiled  and  the  organ  plays  the 
*  Ride  of  the  Valkyries.'  " 

"  I've  half  a  mind  to  take  that  wager,"  said  Geral- 
dine,  very  pink  and  bright-eyed.  "  I  think  I  will  take 
it  if » 

"  Please  don't,  dear,"  said  Kathleen  anxiously. 
"  The  keepers  say  that  a  wounded  boar  is  perfectly 
horrid  sometimes." 

"  Dangerous  ? "  Her  eyes  glimmered  brighter 
still. 

"  Certainly,  a  wounded  boar  is  dangerous.  I  heard 
Miller  say " 

"  Bosh !  "  said  Scott.  "  They  run  away  from  you 
every  time.  Besides,  Geraldine  isn't  going  to  have 
enough  sporting  blood  in  her  to  take  that  bet  and  make 
good." 

Something  in  the  quick  flush  and  tilt  of  her  head 
reminded  Scott  of  the  old  days  when  their  differences 
were  settled  with  eight-ounce  gloves.  The  same  feel 
ing  possessed  his  sister,  thrilled  her  like  a  sudden,  un 
expected  glimpse  of  a  happiness  which  apparently  had 
long  been  ended  for  ever. 

"  Oh,  Scott,"  she  exclaimed,  still  thrilling,  "  it  is 
like  old  times  to  hear  you  try  to  bully  me.  It's  so  long 
since  I've  had  enough  spirit  to  defy  you.  But  I  do 
now! — oh,  yes,  I  do!  Why,  I  believe  that  if  we  had 
the  gloves  here,  I'd  make  you  fight  me  or  take  back 
what  you  said  about  my  not  having  any  sporting 
spirit ! " 

He  laughed :  "  I  was  thinking  of  that,  too.  You're 
359 


THE   DANGER    MARK 


a  good   sport,   Sis.      Don't  bother   to   take  that  wa- 

ger » 

"  I  do  take  it ! "  she  cried ;  "  it's  like  old  times  and 
I  love  it.  Now,  Scott,  I'll  show  you  a  boar  before  we 
go  to  town  or  I'll  buy  you  a  horse.  No  backing  out; 
what's  said  can't  be  unsaid,  remember: 

"  King,  king,  double  king, 
Can't  take  back  a  given  thing! 
Queen,  queen,  queen  of  queens, 
What  she  promises  she  means!  " 

That  was  a  very  solemn  incantation  in  nursery 
days ;  she  laughed  a  little  in  tender  tribute  to  the  past. 

Scott  was  a  trifle  perturbed.  He  glanced  uneasily 
at  Kathleen,  who  told  him  very  plainly  that  he  had  con 
trived  to  make  her  anxious  and  unhappy.  Then  she 
fell  back  into  step  with  Geraldine,  letting  Scott  wan 
der  disconsolately  forward: 

"  Dear,"  she  said,  passing  one  arm  around  the 
younger  girl,  "  I  didn't  quite  dare  to  object  too 
strongly.  You  looked  so — so  interested,  so  deliciously 
defiant — so  like  your  real  self " 

"  I  feel  like  it  to-day,  Kathleen ;  let  me  turn  back 
in  my  own  footsteps — if  I  can.  I've  been  trying  so 
very  hard  to — to  get  back  to  where  there  was  no — 
no  terror  in  the  world." 

"  I  know.  But,  darling,  you  won't  run  into  any 
danger,  will  you  ?  " 

"  Do  you  call  a  hard-hit  beast  a  danger?  I've 
wounded  a  more  terrible  one  than  any  boar  that  ever 
bristled.  I'm  trying  to  kill  something  more  terrifying. 
And  I  shall  if  I  live." 

"  You  poor,  brave  little  martyr !  "  whispered  Kath- 
360 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

leen,  her  violet  eyes  filled  with  sudden  tears ;  "  don't 
you  suppose  I  know  what  you  are  doing?  Don't  you 
suppose  I  watch  and  pray " 

"  Did  you  know  I  was  really  trying?  "  asked  the 
girl,  astonished — "I  mean  before  I  told  you?" 

"  Know  it !  Angels  above !  Of  course  I  know  it. 
Don't  you  suppose  I've  been  watching  you  slowly  win 
ning  back  to  your  old  dear  self — tired,  weary-footed, 
desolate,  almost  hopeless,  yet  always  surely  finding 
your  way  back  through  the  dreadful  twilight  to  the 
dear,  sweet,  generous  self  that  I  know  so  well — the 
straightforward,  innocent,  brave  little  self  that  grew  at 
my  knee ! — Geraldine — Geraldine,  my  own  dear  child !  " 

"  Hush — I  did  not  know  you  knew.  I  am  trying. 
Once  I  failed.  That  was  not  very  long  ago,  either.  Oh, 
Kathleen,  I  am  trying  so  hard,  so  hard!  And  to-day 
has  been  a  dreadful  day  for  me.  That  is  why  I  went 
off  by  myself ;  I  paddled  until  I  was  ready  to  drop  into 
the  lake;  and  the  fright  that  the  boar  gave  me  almost 
ended  me;  but  it  could  not  end  desire!  ...  So  I  took 
a  rifle — anything  to  interest  me — keep  me  on  my  feet 
and  moving  somewhere — doing  something — anything 
— anything,  Kathleen — until  I  can  crush  it  out  of  me 
— until  there's  a  chance  that  I  can  sleep " 

"  I  know — I  know !  That  is  why  I  dared  not  re 
monstrate  when  I  saw  you  drifting  again  toward  your 
old  affectionate  relations  with  Scott.  I'm  afraid  of 
animals — except  what  few  Scott  has  persuaded  me  to 
tolerate — butterflies  and  frogs  and  things.  But  if 
anything  on  earth  is  going  to  interest  you — take  your 
mind  off  yourself — and  bring  you  and  Scott  any 
nearer  together,  I  shall  not  utter  one  word  against  it 
— even  when  it  puts  you  in  physical  danger  and  fright 
ens  me.  Do  you  understand?  " 

361 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


The  girl  nodded,  turned  and  kissed  her.  They 
were  following  a  path  made  by  game ;  Scott  was  out  of 
sight  ahead  somewhere;  they  could  hear  his  boots 
crashing  through  the  underbrush.  After  a  while  the 
sound  died  away  in  the  forest. 

"  The  main  thing,"  said  Geraldine,  "  is  to  keep  up 
my  interest  in  the  world.  I  want  to  do  things.  To  sit 
idle  is  pure  destruction  to  me.  I  write  to  Duane  every 
morning,  I  read,  I  do  a  dozen  things  that  require  my 
attention — little  duties  that  everybody  has.  But  I 
can't  continue  to  write  to  Duane  all  day.  I  can't  read 
all  day;  duties  are  soon  ended.  And,  Kathleen,  it's 
the  idle  intervals  I  dread  so — the  brooding,  the  mem 
ories,  the  waiting  for  events  scheduled  in  domestic  rou 
tine — like  dinner — the — the  terrible  waiting  for  sleep ! 
That  is  the  worst.  I  tell  you,  physical  fatigue  must 
help  to  save  me — must  help  my  love  for  Duane,  my 
love  for  you  and  Scott,  my  self-respect — what  is  left 
of  it.  This  rifle  " — she  held  it  out — "  would  turn  into 
a  nuisance  if  I  let  it.  But  I  won't ;  I  can't ;  I've  got  to 
use  everything  to  help  me." 

"You  ride  every  day,  don't  you?"  ventured  the 
other  woman  timidly. 

"  Before  breakfast.  That  helps.  I  wish  I  had  a 
vicious  horse  to  break.  I  wish  there  was  rough  water 
where  canoes  ought  not  to  go ! "  she  exclaimed  fiercely. 
"  I  need  something  of  that  sort." 

"  You  drove  Scott's  Blue  Racer  yesterday  so  fast 
that  Felix  came  to  me  about  it,"  said  Kathleen  gently. 

Geraldine  laughed.  "  It  couldn't  go  fast  enough, 
dear;  that  was  the  only  trouble."  Then,  serious  and 
wistful :  "  If  I  could  only  have  Duane.  .  .  .  Don't  be 
alarmed;  I  can't — yet.  But  if  I  only  could  have  him 
now !  You  see,  his  life  is  already  verv  full ;  his  work  is 

362 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

absorbing  him.  It  would  absorb  me.  I  don't  know 
anything  about  it  technically,  but  it  interests  me.  If 
I  could  only  have  him  now;  think  about  him  every  sec 
ond  of  the  day — to  keep  me  from  myself " 

She  checked  herself;  suddenly  her  eyes  filled,  her 
lip  quivered: 

"  I  want  him  now ! "  she  said  desperately.  "  He 
could  save  me;  I  know  it!  I  want  him  now — his  love, 
his  arms  to  keep  me  safe  at  night !  I  want  him  to  love 
me — love  me!  Oh,  Kathleen!  if  I  could  only  have 
him!" 

A  delicate  colour  tinted  Kathleen's  face;  her  ears 
shrank  from  the  girl's  low-voiced  cry,  with  its  glimmer 
of  a  passion  scarcely  understood. 

Long,  long,  the  memory  of  his  embrace  had  tor 
mented  her — the  feeling  of  happy  safety  she  had  in  his 
arms — the  contact  that  thrilled  almost  past  endurance, 
yet  filled  her  with  a  glorious  and  splendid  strength — 
that  set  wild  pulses  beating,  wild  blood  leaping  in 
her  veins — that  aroused  her  very  soul  to  meet  his  lips 
and  heed  his  words  and  be  what  his  behest  would  have 
her. 

And  the  memory  of  it  now  possessed  her  so  that  she 
stood  straight  and  slim  and  tall,  trembling  in  the  forest 
path,  and  her  dark  eyes  looked  into  Kathleen's  with  a 
strange,  fiery  glimmer  of  pride: 

"  I  need  him,  but  I  love  him  too  well  to  take  him. 
Can  I  do  more  for  him  than  that  ?  " 

"  Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling,'*  said  Kathleen  brok 
enly,  "  if  you  believe  that  he  can  save  you — if  you 
really  feel  that  he  can " 

"  I  am  trying  to  save  myself — I  am  trying."  She 
turned  and  looked  off  through  the  forest,  a  straight, 
slender  shape  in  the  moving  shadows  of  the  leaves. 

363 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


"  But  if  he  could  really  help  you — if  you  truly  be 
lieve  it,  dear,  I — I  don't  know  whether  you  might  not 
venture — now " 

"  No,  dear."  She  slowly  closed  her  eyes,  remained 
motionless  for  a  moment,  drew  a  deep,  long  breath,  and 
looked  up  through  the  sunlit  branches  overhead. 

"  I've  got  to  be  fair  to  him,"  she  said  aloud  to  her 
self  ;  "  I  must  give  myself  to  him  as  I  ought  to  be,  or 
not  at  all.  .  .  .  That  is  settled." 

She  turned  to  Kathleen  and  took  her  hand: 

"  Come  on,  fellow-pilgrim,"  she  said  with  an  effort 
to  smile.  "  My  cowardice  is  over  for  the  present." 

A  few  steps  forward  they  sighted  Scott  coming 
back.  He  was  unusually  red  in  the  face  and  rather  ex 
cited,  and  he  flourished  a  stick. 

"  Of  all  the  infernal  impudence !  "  he  said.  "  What 
do  you  think  has  happened  to  me?  I  saw  a  wild  boar 
back  there — not  a  very  big  one — and  he  came  out  into 
the  trail  ahead,  and  I  kept  straight  on,  thinking  he'd 
hear  me  and  run.  And  I'm  blessed  if  the  brute  didn't 
whirl  around  and  roughen  up,  and  clatter  his  tusks 
until  I  actually  had  to  come  to  a  halt !  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  walk  in  these  woods  any  more," 
said  Kathleen  with  sudden  conviction.  "  Please  come 
home,  all  of  us." 

"  Nonsense,"  he  said.  "  I  won't  stand  for  being 
hustled  out  of  my  own  woods.  Give  me  that  rifle,  Ger- 
aldine." 

"  I  certainly  will  not,"  she  said,  smiling. 

"What!    Why  not?" 

"  Because  it  rather  looks  as  though  I'm  about  to 
win  my  bet  with  you,"  observed  Geraldine.  "  Please 
show  me  your  boar,  Scott."  And  she  threw  a  cartridge 
into  the  magazine  and  started  forward. 

364 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

"  Don't  let  her !  "  pleaded  Kathleen.  "  Scott,  it's 
ridiculous  to  let  that  child  do  such  silly  things " 

"  Then  stop  her  if  you  can,"  said  Scott  gloomily, 
following  his  sister.  "  I  don't  know  anything  about 
wild  boar,  but  I  suppose  straight  shooting  will  take 
care  of  them,  and  Sis  can  do  that  if  she  keeps  her 
nerve." 

Geraldine,  hastening  ahead,  rifle  poised,  scanned  the 
woods  with  the  palpitating  curiosity  of  an  amateur. 
Eyes  and  ears  alert,  she  kept  mechanically  reassuring 
herself  that  the  thing  to  do  was  to  shoot  straight  and 
keep  cool,  and  to  keep  on  shooting  whichever  way  the 
boar  might  take  it  into  his  porcine  head  to  run. 

Scott  hastened  forward  to  her  side: 

"  Here's  the  place,"  he  said,  looking  about  him. 
"  He's  concluded  to  make  off,  you  see.  They  usually  go 
off;  they  only  stand  when  wounded  or  when  they  think 
they  can't  get  away.  He's  harmless,  I  suppose — only 
it  made  me  very  tired  to  have  him  act  that  way.  I  hate 
to  be  backed  out  of  my  own  property." 

Geraldine,  rather  relieved,  yet  ashamed  not  to  do 
all  she  could,  began  to  walk  toward  a  clump  of  low 
hemlocks.  She  had  heard  that  wild  boar  take  that  sort 
of  cover.  She  did  not  really  expect  to  find  anything 
there,  so  when  a  big  black  streak  crashed  out  ahead  of 
her  she  stood  stock  still  in  frozen  astonishment,  rifle 
clutched  to  her  breast. 

"  Shoot !  "  shouted  her  brother. 

"  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear,"  she  said  helplessly,  "  he's 
gone  out  of  sight !  And  I  had  such  a  splendid  shot !  " 
She  stamped  with  vexation.  "  What  a  goose ! " 
she  repeated.  "  I  had  a  perfectly  splendid  shot. 
And  all  I  did  was  to  jump  like  a  scared  cat  and 
stare !  " 

365 


THE   GANGER   MARK 


"  Anyway,  you  didn't  run,  and  that's  a  point 
gained,"  observed  her  brother.  "  I  had  to.  And  that's 
one  on  me." 

A  moment  later  he  said :  "  I  believe  those  impudent 
boar  do  need  a  little  thinning  out.  When  is  Duane 
coming?  " 

"  In  November,"  said  Geraldine,  still  looking 
vaguely  about  for  the  departed  pig. 

"Early?" 

"  I  think  so,  if  his  father  is  all  right  again.  I've 
asked  Na'ida,  too.  Rosalie  wants  to  come " 

"  Oh,  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't,"  he  protested. 
"  All  I  wanted  was  a  shooting  party  to  do  a  little  scien 
tific  thinning  out  of  these  boar.  I'll  do  some  myself, 
too." 

Geraldine  laughed.  "  Rosalie  is  a  dead  shot  at  a 
target,  dear.  She  wrote  asking  us  to  invite  her  to 
shoot.  I  don't  see  how  I  can  very  well  refuse  her.  Do 
you  ?  " 

"  That  means  her  husband,  too,"  grumbled  Scott, 
"  and  that  entire  bunch." 

"  No ;  if  it's  a  shooting  party,  I  don't  have  to  ask 
him." 

Her  brother  said  ungraciously :  "  Well,  I  don't  care 
who  you  ask  if  they'll  thin  out  these  cheeky  brutes. 
Fancy  that  two-year-old  pig  clattering  his  tusks  at 
me,  planted  there  in  the  path  with  his  mane  on  end ! — 
You  know  it  mortifies  me,  Kathleen — it  certainly  does. 
One  of  these  fine  days  some  facetious  pig  will  send  me 
shinning  up  a  tree ! "  He  grew  madder  at  the  specu 
lative  indignity.  "  By  ginger !  I'm  going  to  have  a 
shooting  party  before  the  snow  flies,"  he  muttered, 
walking  forward  between  Kathleen  and  his  sister. 
"Keep  your  eyes  out  ahead;  we  may  jump  another  at 

366 


THROUGH   THE    WOODS 

any  time,  as  the  wind  is  all  right.  And  if  we  do,  let 
him  have  it,  Geraldine !  " 

It  was  a  beautiful  woodland  through  which  they 
moved. 

The  late  autumn  foliage  was  unusually  magnificent, 
lacking,  this  year,  those  garish  and  discordant  hues 
which  Americans  think  it  necessary  to  admire.  Oak 
brown  and  elm  yellow,  deep  chrome  bronze  and  sombre 
crimson  the  hard  woods  glowed  against  backgrounds  of 
pine  and  hemlock.  Larches  were  mossy  cones  of  feathery 
gold ;  birches  slim  shafts  of  snowy  gray,  ochre-crowned ; 
silver  and  green  the  balsams'  spires  pierced  the  can 
opy  of  splendid  tapestry  upborne  by  ash  and 
oak  and  towering  pine  under  a  sky  of  blue  so  deep 
and  intense  that  the  lakes  reflecting  it  seemed  no  less 
vivid. 

Already  in  the  brooks  they  passed  painted  trout 
hung  low  over  every  bed  of  gravel  and  white  sand ;  the 
male  trout  wore  his  best  scarlet  fins,  and  his  sides 
glowed  in  alternate  patterns,  jewelled  with  ruby  and 
sapphire  spots.  Already  the  ruffed  grouse  thundered 
up  by  coveys,  though  they  had  not  yet  packed,  for  the 
broods  still  retained  their  autonomy. 

But  somewhere  beyond  the  royal  azure  of  the 
northern  sky,  very,  very  far  away,  there  was  cold  in 
the  world,  for  even  last  week,  through  the  violet  and 
primrose  dusk,  out  of  the  north,  shadowy  winged 
things  came  speeding,  batlike  phantoms  against  the 
dying  light — flight-woodcock  coming  through  hill- 
cleft  and  valley  to  the  land  where  summer  lingered  still. 

And  there  in  mid-forest,  right  in  the  tall  timber, 
Scott,  advancing,  flushed  a  woodcock,  which  darted  up, 
filling  the  forest  with  twittering  music — the  truest  mu 
sic  of  our  eastern  autumn,  clear,  bewildering,  charm- 

367 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ing  in  its  evanescent  sweetness  which  leaves  in  its  wake 
a  startling  silence. 

Ahead,  lining  both  sides  of  a  gully  deep  with  last 
year's  leaves,  was  an  oak  grove  in  mid-forest.  Here 
the  brown  earth  was  usually  furrowed  by  the  black 
snouts  of  wild  boar,  for  mast  lay  thick  here  in  autumn 
and  tender  roots  invited  investigation. 

"  Get  down  flat  and  crawl,"  whispered  Scott ; 
"  there  may  be  a  boar  or  two  on  the  grounds." 

Kathleen,  in  her  pretty  white  gown  of  lace  and 
some  sheer  stuff,  looked  at  him  piteously;  but  when  he 
and  Geraldine  dropped  flat  and  wriggled  forward 
into  the  wind,  misgiving  of  what  might  prowl  behind 
seized  her,  and  she  tucked  up  her  skirts  and  gave  her 
self  to  the  brown  earth  with  a  tremor  of  indignation 
and  despair. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  crept,  making  very  little 
sound;  but  they  made  enough  to  rouse  a  young  boar, 
who  jerked  his  head  into  the  air,  where  he  stood  among 
the  acorns,  big,  furry  ears  high  and  wide,  nose  working 
nervously. 

"  He's  only  a  yearling,"  breathed  Scott  in  his  sis 
ter's  ear.  "  There  are  traces  of  stripes,  if  you  look 
hard.  Wait  for  a  better  one." 

They  lay  silent,  all  three  peering  down  at  the  year 
ling,  who  stood  motionless,  nosing  for  tainted  air,  lis 
tening,  peering  about  with  dull,  near-sighted  eyes. 

And,  after  a  long  time,  as  they  made  no  sound,  the 
brute  wheeled  suddenly,  made  a  complete  circle  at  a 
nervous  trout,  uttered  a  series  of  short,  staccato 
sounds  that,  when  he  became  older,  would  become  deep 
er,  more  of  an  ominous  roar  than  a  hoarse  and  irri 
tated  grunt. 

Two  deer,  a  doe  and  a  fawn,  came  picking  their 
368 


THROUGH   THE   WOODS 

way  cautiously  along  the  edge  of  the  gully,  sometimes 
flattening  their  ears,  sometimes  necks  outstretched, 
ears  forward,  peering  ahead  at  the  young  and  bad- 
tempered  pig. 

The  latter  saw  them,  turned  in  fury  and  charged 
with  swiftness  incredible,  and  the  deer  stampeded  head 
long  through  the  forest. 

"  What  a  fierce,  little  brute !  "  whispered  Kathleen, 
appalled.  "  Scott,  if  he  comes  any  nearer,  I'm  going 
to  get  into  a  tree." 

"  If  he  sees  us  or  winds  us  he'll  run.  Don't  move ; 
there  may  be  a  good  boar  in  presently.  I've  thought 
two  or  three  times  that  I  heard  something  on  that  hem 
lock  ridge." 

They  listened,  holding  their  breath.  Crack!  went 
a  distant  stick.  Silence;  nothing  stirred  except  the 
yearling  who  had  returned  to  the  mast  and  was  eagerly 
nosing  among  the  acorns.  They  could  hear  him 
crunching  the  husks,  see  the  gleam  of  long  white  teeth 
which  one  day  would  grow  outside  that  furry  muzzle 
and  curve  up  and  backward  like  ivory  sabres. 

Geraldine  whispered :  "  There's  a  huge  black  thing 
moving  in  the  hemlock  scrub.  I  can  see  its  feet  against 
the  sky-line,  and  sometimes  part  of  its  bulk " 

"  Oh,  heavens,"  breathed  Kathleen,  "  what  is  that?  " 

Out  of  the  scrub  trotted  a  huge,  shaggy,  black 
thing,  all  head  and  shoulders,  with  body  slanting  back 
abruptly  to  a  pair  of  weak  hindquarters.  Down  the 
slope  it  ran  in  quick,  noiseless,  jerky  steps;  the  year 
ling  turned  his  head,  still  munching,  ears  cocked  for 
ward.  And  suddenly  the  monster  rushed  at  him  with  a 
squeal,  and  the  yearling  shrieked  and  fled,  chased  clear 
up  the  slope. 

"  It's  a  sow ;  don't  shoot,"  whispered  Scott.  "  Look, 
369 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Sis,  you  can't  see  a  sign  of  tusks.  Good  heavens,  what 
a  huge  creature  she  is ! " 

Fierce,  formidable,  the  great  beast  halted;  three 
striped,  partly  grown  pigs  came  rushing  and  frisking 
down  the  gully  to  join  her,  filling  the  forest  with  their 
clumsy  clatter  and  baby  squealing.  From  the  ridge  the 
two  deer,  who  had  sneaked  back,  regarded  the  scene 
with  terrified  fascination. 

Presently  the  yearling  rushed  them  out  again,  then 
sidled  down,  venturing  to  the  edge  of  the  feeding- 
ground,  where  he  began  to  crunch  acorns  again  with  a 
cautious  eye  on  the  sow  and  her  noisy  brood. 

Here  and  there  a  brilliant  blue-jay  floated  down, 
seized  an  acorn,  and  winged  hastily  to  some  near  tree 
where  presently  he  filled  the  woods  with  the  noise  he 
made  in  hammering  the  acorn  into  some  cleft  in  the 
bark. 

Gradually  the  sunlight  on  the  leaves  reddened; 
long,  luminous  shadows  lengthened  eastward.  Kath 
leen,  lying  at  full  length,  her  pretty  face  between  her 
hands,  suddenly  sneezed. 

The  next  moment  the  feeding-ground  was  de 
serted;  only  a  distant  crashing  betrayed  the  line  of 
flight  where  the  great  fierce  sow  and  her  young  were 
rushing  upward  toward  the  rocks  of  the  Gilded  Dome. 

"  I'm  so  sorry,"  faltered  Kathleen,  very  pink  and 
embarrassed. 

Geraldine  sat  up  and  laughed,  laying  the  uncocked 
rifle  across  her  knees. 

"  Some  of  these  days  I'm  going  to  win  my  wager," 
she  said  to  her  brother.  "  And  it  won't  be  with  a 
striped  yearling,  either;  it  will  be  with  the  biggest, 
shaggiest,  fiercest,  tuskiest  boar  that  ranges  the 
Gilded  Dome.  And  that,"  she  added,  looking  at  Kath- 

370 


THROUGH    THE    WOODS 

leen,  "  will  give  me  something  to  think  of  and  keep 
me  rather  busy,  I  believe." 

"  Rather,"  observed  her  brother,  getting  up  and 
helping  Kathleen  to  her  feet.  He  added,  to  torment 
her :  "  Probably  you'll  get  Duane  to  win  your  bet  for 
you,  Sis." 

"  No,"  said  the  girl  gravely ;  "  whatever  is  to  die 
I  must  slay  all  by  myself,  Scott — all  alone,  with  no 
man's  help." 

He  nodded :  "  Sure  thing ;  it's  the  only  sporting 
way.  There's  no  stunt  to  it;  only  keep  cool  and  keep 
shooting,  and  drop  him  before  he  comes  to  close  quar 
ters." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  looking  up  at  Kathleen. 

Her  brother  drew  her  to  her  feet.  She  gave  him  a 
little  hug. 

"  Believe  in  me,  dear,"  she  said.  "  I'll  do  it  easier 
if  you  do." 

"  Of  course  I  do.  You're  a  better  sport  than  I. 
You  always  were.  And  that's  no  idle  jest;  witness  my 
nose  and  Duane's  in  days  gone  by." 

The  girl  smiled.  As  they  turned  homeward  she 
slung  her  rifle,  passed  her  right  arm  through  Kath 
leen's,  and  dropped  her  left  on  her  brother's  shoulder. 
She  was  very  tired,  and  hopeful  that  she  might  sleep. 

And  tired,  hopeful,  thinking  of  her  lover,  she  passed 
through  the  woods,  leaning  on  those  who  were  nearest 
and  most  dear. 

Somehow — and  just  why  was  not  clear  to  her — :it 
seemed  at  that  moment  as  though  she  had  passed  the 
danger  mark — as  though  the  very  worst  lay  behind  her 
— close,  scarcely  clear  of  her  skirts  yet,  but  all  the 
same  it  lay  behind  her,  not  ahead. 

She  knew,  and  dreaded,  and  shrank  from  what  still 
371 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


lay  before  her ;  she  understood  into  what  ruin  treachery 
to  self  might  precipitate  her  still  at  any  moment.  And 
yet,  somehow,  she  felt  vaguely  that  something  had  been 
gained  that  day  which  never  before  had  been  gained. 
And  she  thought  of  her  lover  as  she  passed  through 
the  forest,  leaning  on  Scott  and  Kathleen,  her  little 
feet  keeping  step  with  theirs,  her  eyes  steady  in  the  red 
western  glare  that  flooded  the  forest  to  an  infernal 
beauty. 

Behind  her  streamed  her  gigantic  shadow ;  behind 
her  lay  another  shadow,  cast  by  her  soul  and  floating 
wide  of  it  now.  And  it  must  never  touch  her  soul  again, 
God  helping. 

Suddenly  her  heart  almost  ceased  its  beating.  Far 
away  within,  stirring  in  unsuspected  depths,  something 
moved  furtively. 

Her  face  whitened  a  little;  her  eyes  closed,  the  lids 
fluttered,  opened;  she  gazed  straight  in  front  of  her, 
walked  on,  small  head  erect,  lips  firm,  facing  the  hell 
that  lay  before  her — lay  surely,  surely  before  her. 
For  the  breath  of  it  glowed  already  in  her  veins  and 
the  voices  of  it  were  already  busy  in  her  ears,  and  the 
unseen  stirring  of  it  had  begun  once  more  within  her 
body — that  tired  white,  slender  body  of  hers  which  had 
endured  so  bravely  and  so  long. 

If  sleep  would  only  aid  her,  come  to  her  in  her 
need,  be  her  ally  in  the  peril  of  her  solitude — if  it 
would  only  come,  and  help  her  to  endure! 

And  wondering  if  it  would,  not  knowing,  hoping, 
she  walked  onward  through  the  falling  night. 


CHAPTER    XVII 

THE    DANGER    MARK 

HER  letters  to  him  still  bore  the  red  cross: 

"  I  understand  perfectly  why  you  cannot  come,"  she 
wrote ;  "  I  would  do  exactly  as  you  are  doing  if  I  had 
a  father.  It  must  be  a  very  great  happiness  to  have 
one.  My  need  of  you  is  not  as  great  as  his ;  I  can  hold 
my  own  alone,  I  think.  You  see  I  am  doing  it,  and  you 
must  not  worry.  Only,  dear,  when  you  have  the  op 
portunity,  come  up  if  only  for  a  day." 

And  again,  in  November: 

"  You  are  the  sweetest  boy,  and  it  is  not  difficult 
to  understand  why  your  father  cannot  endure  to  have 
you  out  of  his  sight.  But  is  this  not  a  very  heavy  strain 
on  you?  Of  course  your  mother  and  Nai'da  must  not 
be  left  alone  with  him ;  you  are  the  only  son,  and  your 
place  is  there. 

"  Dear,  I  know  what  you  are  going  through  is 
one  of  the  most  dreadful  things  that  any  man  is  called 
upon  to  bear — your  father  stricken,  your  mother  and 
sister  prostrate ;  the  newspapers — for  I  have  read  them 
— cruel  beyond  belief!  But  whatever  they  say,  what 
ever  is  true  or  untrue,  Duane,  remember  that  it  cannot 
affect  my  regard  for  you  and  yours. 

"  If  I  had  a  father,  whatever  he  might  have  done, 
or  permitted  others  to  do,  would  not,  could  not  alter  my 
affection  for  him. 

"  Men  say  that  women  have  no  sense  of  honour.  I 
373 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


do  not  know  what  that  sense  may  be  if  it  falters  when 
loyalty  and  compassion  are  needed,  too. 

"  I  have  read  the  papers ;  I  know  only  what  I  read 
and  what  you  tell  me.  The  rules  that  custom  has  framed 
to  safeguard  and  govern  financial  operations,  I  do 
not  understand;  but,  as  far  as  I  can  comprehend,  it 
seems  to  me  that  custom  has  hitherto  sanctioned  what 
disaster  has  now  placed  under  a  bann.  It  seems  to 
me  that  the  very  men  who  now  blame  your  father  have 
all  done  successfully  what  he  did  so  disastrously. 

"  One  thing  I  know :  no  kinder,  dearer  man  than 
your  father  ever  lived;  and  I  love  him,  and  I  love  his 
family,  and  I  will  marry  his  son  when  I  am  fit  to  do  it." 

And  again  she  wrote: 

"  I  saw  in  the  papers  that  the  Algonquin  Trust 
Company  had  closed  its  doors ;  I  read  the  heartbreaking 
details  of  the  crowds  besieging  it,  the  lines  of  fright 
ened  people  standing  there  in  the  rain  all  night  long. 
It  is  dreadful,  terrible! 

"  Who  are  these  Wall  Street  men  who  would  not 
help  the  Algonquin  when  they  could?  Why  is  the  Clear 
ing  House  so  bitter?  I  don't  know  what  it  all  means ;  I 
read  columns  about  poor  Jack  Dysart — words  and  fig 
ures  and  technical  phrases  and  stock  quotations — and 
it  means  nothing,  and  I  understand  nothing  of  it  save 
that  it  is  all  a  fierce  outcry  against  him  and  against 
the  men  with  whom  he  was  financially  involved. 

"  The  papers  are  so  gloomy,  so  eager  in  their  search 
for  evil,  so  merciless,  so  exultant  when  scandal  is  un 
earthed,  that  I  can  scarcely  bear  to  read  them.  Why 
do  they  drag  in  unhappy  people  who  know  nothing 
about  these  matters?  The  interview  with  your  mother 
and  Naida,  which  you  say  is  false,  was  most  dreadful. 
How  cruel  men  are! 

374 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Tell  them  I  love  them  dearly ;  tell  your  father,  too. 
And,  dear,  I  don't  know  exactly  how  Scott  and  I  are 
situated,  but  if  we  can  be  of  any  financial  use  to  you, 
please,  please  let  us !  Our  fortune,  when  it  came  to  us, 
was,  I  believe,  all  in  first  mortgages  and  railroad  secur 
ities.  I  believe  that  Scott  made  some  changes  in  our 
investments  under  advice  from  your  father.  I  don't 
know  what  they  were. 

"  Don't  bother  your  father  with  such  details  now ; 
he  has  enough  to  think  of  lying  there  in  his  grief,  be 
wildered,  broken  in  mind  and  body.  Duane,  is  it  not 
more  merciful  that  he  is  unable  to  understand  what  the 
papers  are  saying? 

"  Dear,  heart  and  soul  I  am  loyal  to  you  and  yours." 

She  wrote  again : 

"  Yes,  I  had  a  talk  with  Scott.  I  did  not  know 
he  had  been  receiving  all  those  letters  from  your  attor 
neys.  Magnelius  Grandcourt  manages  the  investments. 
Scott's  brokers  are  Stainer  &  Elting;  our  attorneys 
are,  as  you  know,  Landon,  Brooks  &  Gayfield. 

"  Duane,  I  absolutely  forbid  you  to  worry.  My 
brother  is  of  age,  sound  in  mind  and  body,  responsible 
for  whatever  he  does  or  has  done.  It  is  his  affair  if  he 
solicits  advice,  his  affair  if  he  follows  it.  Your  father 
has  no  responsibility  whatever  in  the  matter  of  the  Cas 
cade  Development  and  Securities  Company.  Besides, 
Scott  tells  me  that  what  he  did  was  against  the  advice 
of  Mr.  Tappan. 

"  I  remember  last  winter  that  he  brought  a  Mr. 
Skelton  to  luncheon,  and  a  horrid  man  named  Klawber. 

"  Poor  Scott !     He  certainly  knows  nothing  about 

business  matters.     I  know  he  had  no  desire  to  increase 

his  private  fortune;  he  tells  me  that  what  interested 

him  in  the  Cascade  Development  and  Securities  Com- 

25  375 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


pany  was  the  chance  that  cheap  radium  might  stimulate 
scientific  research  the  world  over.  Poor  Scott! 

"  Dear,  you  are  not  to  think  for  one  instant  that 
any  trouble  which  may  involve  Scott  is  due  to  you  or 
yours.  And  if  it  were,  Duane,  it  could  make  no  differ 
ence  to  him  or  to  me.  Money  and  what  it  buys  is  such  a 
pitiful  detail  in  what  goes  to  make  up  happiness.  Who 
but  I  should  understand  that! 

"  Loss  of  social  prestige  and  position  is  a  serious 
matter,  I  suppose;  I  may  show  my  ignorance  and  in 
experience  when  I  tell  you  how  much  more  serious  to 
me  are  other  things — like  the  loss  of  faith  in  one's  self 
or  in  others — or  the  loss  of  the  gentler  virtues,  which 
means  the  loss  of  what  one  once  was. 

"  The  loss  of  honour  is,  as  you  say,  a  pitiful  thing ; 
yet,  I  think  that  when  that  happens,  love  and  compas 
sion  were  never  more  truly  needed. 

"  Honour,  as  I  understand  it,  is  not  to  take  advan 
tage  of  others  or  of  one's  better  self.  This  is  a  young 
girl's  definition.  I  cannot  see — if  one  has  yielded  once 
to  temptation,  and  truly  repents — why  honour  cannot 
be  regained. 

"  The  honour  of  men  and  nations  that  seems  to  re 
quire  arrogance,  aggression,  violence  for  its  defence,  I 
do  not  understand.  How  can  the  misdeeds  of  others 
impair  one's  true  honour?  How  can  punishment  for 
such  misdeeds  restore  it?  No;  it  lies  within  one,  quite 
intangible  save  by  one's  self. 

"  Why  should  I  not  know,  dear  ? — I  who  have  lost 
my  own  and  found  it,  have  held  it  desperately  for  a 
while,  then  lost  it,  then  regained  it,  holding  it  again  as 
I  do  now — alas ! — against  no  other  enemy  than  I  who 
write  this  record  for  your  eyes! 

"  Dear,  I  know  of  nothing  lost  which  may  not  be  re- 


gained,  except  life.  I  know  of  nothing  which  cannot 
be  rendered  tolerable  through  loyalty. 

"  That  material  happiness  which  means  so  much  to 
some,  means  now  so  very  little  to  me,  perhaps  because 
I  have  never  lacked  it. 

"  Yet  I  know  that,  once  mistress  of  myself,  nothing 
else  could  matter  unless  your  love  failed." 

Again  she  wrote  him  toward  the  end  of  November: 

"  Why  will  you  not  let  me  help  you,  dear  ?  My 
fortune  is  practically  intact  so  far,  except  that,  of 
course,  I  met  those  obligations  which  Scott  could  not 
meet.  Poor  Scott! 

"  You  know  it's  rather  bewildering  to  me  where 
millions  go  to.  I  don't  quite  comprehend  how  they 
can  so  utterly  vanish  in  such  a  short  time,  even  in 
such  a  frightful  fiasco  as  the  Cascade  Development 
Company. 

"  So  many  people  have  been  here — Mr.  Landon  and 
Mr.  Gayfield,  Mr.  Stainer  of  Elting  &  Stainer,  that 
dreadful  creature  Klawber,  a  very  horrid  man  named 
Amos  Flack — and  dear,  grim,  pig-headed  Mr.  Tappan 
— old  Remsen  Tappan  of  all  men ! 

"  He  practically  kicked  out  Mr.  Flack  and  the  crea 
ture  Klawber,  who  had  been  trying  to  frighten  Scott 
and  me  and  even  our  lawyers. 

"  And  think,  Duane !  He  never  uttered  one  sarcasm, 
one  reproach  for  Scott's  foolishness ;  he  sat  grim  and 
rusty  as  the  iron  that  he  once  dealt  in,  listening  to  what 
Scott  had  to  tell  him,  never  opening  that  cragged  jaw, 
never  unclosing  that  thin  line  of  cleavage  which  is  his 
mouth. 

"  We  did  not  know  what  he  had  come  for ;  but  we 
know  now.  He  is  so  good — so  good,  Duane!  And  I, 
who  hated  him  as  a  child,  as  a  girl — I  am  almost  too 

377 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ashamed  to  let  him  take  command  and  untangle  for  us, 
with  those  knotted,  steel-sinewed  fingers  of  his,  the 
wretched,  tangled  mess  that  has  coiled  around  Scott 
and  me. 

"  Surely,  this  man  Klauber  is  a  very  great  villain ; 
and  it  seems  that  Mr.  Skelton  and  the  wretched  Flack 
creature  are  little  less.  As  for  Jack  Dysart,  it  is  all 
too  sorrowful  to  think  about.  How  must  he  feel! 
Surely,  surely  he  could  not  have  known  what  he  was 
doing.  He  must  have  been  desperate  to  go  to  Delancy 
Grandcourt.  It  was  wrong;  nothing  on  earth  could 
have  propped  up  the  Algonquin,  and  why  did  he  let  his 
best  friend  go  down  with  it? 

"  But  it  was  fine  of  Delancy  to  stand  by  him — fine, 
fine!  His  father  is  perfectly  furious,  but,  Duane,  it 
was  fine! 

"  And  now,  dear,  about  Scott.  It  will  amuse  you, 
and  perhaps  horrify  you,  if  I  tell  you  that  he  has  not 
turned  a  hair. 

"  Not  that  he  doesn't  care ;  not  that  he  is  not  more 
or  less  mortified.  But  he  blames  nobody  except  himself ; 
and  he's  laying  plans  quite  cheerfully  for  a  career  on  a 
small  income  that  really  does  not  require  the  austerity 
and  frugality  he  imagines. 

"  One  thing  is  certain ;  the  town  house  is  to  be  sold. 
My  income  is  not  sufficient  to  maintain  it  and  Roya- 
Neh,  and  live  as  we  do,  and  have  anything  left.  I 
don't  yet  know  how  far  my  fortune  is  involved,  but  I 
have  a  very  unpleasant  premonition  that  there  is  going 
to  be  much  less  left  than  anybody  believes,  and  that 
ultimately  we  ought  to  sell  Roya-Neh. 

"  However,  it  is  far  too  early  to  speculate ;  besides, 
this  family  has  done  enough  speculating  for  one  gener 
ation. 

378 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Dear,  you  ask  about  myself.  I  am  not  one  bit 
worried,  sad,  or  apprehensive.  I  am  better,  Duane. 
Do  you  understand?  All  this  has  developed  a  set  of 
steadier  nerves  in  me  than  I  have  had  since  I  was  a 
child. 

"  A  new  and  curiously  keen  enjoyment  has  been 
slowly  growing  in  me — a  happiness  in  physical  and  vio 
lent  effort.  I've  a  devilish  horse  to  ride;  and  I  love 
it!  I've  climbed  all  over  the  Gilded  Dome  and  Lynx 
Peak  after  the  biggest  and  shaggiest  boar  you  ever 
saw.  Oh,  Duane!  I  came  on  him  just  at  the  edge  of 
evening,  and  he  winded  me  and  went  thundering  down 
the  Westgate  ravine,  and  I  fired  too  quickly. 

"  But  I'm  after  him  almost  every  day  with  old 
Miller,  and  my  arms  and  legs  are  getting  so  strong, 
and  my  flesh  so  firm,  and  actually  I'm  becoming  almost 
plump  in  the  face!  Don't  you  care  for  that  kind  of  a 
girl? 

"  Dear,  do  you  think  I've  passed  the  danger  mark  ? 
Tell  me  honestly — not  what  you  want  to  think,  but  what 
you  do  believe.  I  don't  know  whether  I  have  passed  it 
yet.  I  feel,  somehow,  whichever  side  of  it  I  am  on,  that 
the  danger  mark  is  not  very  far  away  from  me.  I've 
got  to  get  farther  away.  The  house  in  town  is  open. 
Mrs.  Farren,  Hilda,  and  Nellie  are  there  if  we  run 
into  town. 

"  Kathleen  is  so  happy  for  me.  I've  told  her  about 
the  red  cross.  She  is  too  sweet  to  Scott ;  she  seems  to 
think  he  really  grieves  deeply  over  the  loss  of  his  pri 
vate  fortune.  What  a  dear  she  is!  She  is  willing  to 
marry  him  now;  but  Scott  strikes  attitudes  and  de 
clares  she  shall  have  a  man  whose  name  stands  for  an 
achievement — meaning,  of  course,  the  Seagrave  process 
for  the  extermination  of  the  Rose-beetle. 

879 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Duane,  I  am  quite  unaccountably  happy  to 
day.  Nothing  seems  to  threaten.  But  don't  stop  lov 
ing  me." 

Followed  three  letters  less  confident,  and  another 
very  pitiful — a  frightened  letter  asking  him  to  come  if 
he  could.  But  his  father's  condition  forbade  it  and 
he  dared  not. 

Then  another  letter  came,  desperate,  almost  inco 
herent,  yet  still  bearing  the  red  cross  faintly  traced. 
And  on  the  heels  of  it  a  telegram: 

"  Could  you  stand  by  me  until  this  is  over  ?  I  am 
afraid  of  to-night.  Am  on  my  way  to  town  with  my 
maid,  very  ill.  I  know  you  cannot  leave  your  father 
except  at  night.  I  will  telephone  you  from  the  house. 

"  G.  S." 

On  the  train  a  dispatch  was  handed  her: 

"  I  will  be  at  your  house  as  soon  as  my  father  is 
asleep.  Don't  worry.  DTJANE." 

Hour  after  hour  she  sat  motionless  beside  the  car- 
window,  quiet,  pale,  dark  eyes  remote;  trees,  houses, 
trains,  telegraph-poles  streamed  past  in  one  gray,  un 
ending  blur;  rain  which  at  first  had  only  streaked  the 
grimy  window-glass  with  cinders,  became  sleet,  then 
snow,  clotting  the  dripping  panes. 

At  last,  far  away  under  a  heavy  sky,  the  vast  mis 
shapen  landmarks  of  New  York  loomed  up  gray 
through  the  falling  snow;  the  train  roared  over  the 
Harlem,  halted  at  125th  Street,  rolled  on  into  the  black 
tunnel,  faster,  faster,  slower,  then  more  slowly,  and 
stopped.  All  sounds  ceased  at  the  same  moment;  si- 

380 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


lence   surrounded  her,  dreary  as  the  ominous   silence 
within. 

Dunn  met  her  with  a  brougham ;  Fifth  Avenue  was 
slippery  with  filthy,  melting  slush;  yet,  somehow,  into 
her  mind  came  the  memory  of  her  return  from  her  first 
opera — the  white  avenue  at  midnight,  the  carriage, 
lamps  lighted,  speeding  through  the  driving  snow. 
Yesterday,  the  quiet,  untainted  whiteness  of  childhood ; 
to-day,  trouble  and  stress  and  stained  snow  melting 
into  mud — so  far  behind  her  lay  innocence  and  peace 
on  the  long  road  she  had  travelled!  So  far  had  she 
already  journeyed — toward  what? 

She  pressed  her  lips  more  tightly  together  and 
buried  her  chin  in  her  sable  muff.  Beside  her,  her  maid 
sat  shivering  and  stifling  yawn  after  yawn  and  think 
ing  of  dinner  and  creature  comforts,  and  of  Dunn,  the 
footman,  whom  she  did  ardently  admire. 

The  big  red  brick  house  among  its  naked  trees 
seemed  sad  and  deserted  as  the  brougham  flashed  into 
the  drive  and  stopped,  the  horses  stamping  and  pawing 
the  frozen  gravel.  Geraldine  had  never  before  been 
away  from  home  so  long,  and  now  as  she  decended  from 
the  carriage  and  looked  vaguely  about  her  it  seemed  as 
though  she  had,  somehow,  become  very,  very  young 
again — that  it  was  her  child-self  that  entered  under  the 
porte-cochere  after  the  prescribed  drive  that  always 
ended  outdoor  exercise  in  the  early  winter  evenings; 
and  she  half  expected  to  see  old  Howker  in  the  hall,  and 
Margaret  trotting  up  to  undo  her  furs  and  leggings — 
half  expected  to  hear  Kathleen's  gay  greeting,  to  see 
her  on  the  stairs,  so  young,  so  sweetly  radiant,  her 
arms  outstretched  in  welcome  to  her  children  who  had 
been  away  scarcely  a  full  hour. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  a  fire  in  my  bedroom  and  in  the 
381 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


upper  library,"  she  said  to  Hilda,  who  had  smilingly 
opened  the  door  for  her.  "  I'll  dine  in  the  upper  li 
brary,  too.  When  Mr.  Mallett  arrives,  you  need  not 
come  up  to  announce  him.  Ask  him  to  find  me  in  the 
library." 

To  Mrs.  Farren  she  said :  "  Nobody  need  sit  up. 
When  Mr.  Mallett  leaves,  I  will  put  the  chains  on  and 
bolt  everything." 

She  was  destined  not  to  keep  this  promise. 

Bathed,  her  hair  brushed  and  dressed,  she  suffered 
her  maid  to  hook  her  into  a  gown  which  she  could  put 
off  again  unassisted — one  of  those  gowns  that  excite 
masculine  admiration  by  reason  of  its  apparent  inex~ 
pensiveness  and  extreme  simplicity.  It  was  horribly 
expensive,  of  course — white,  and  cut  out  in  a  circle 
around  her  neck  like  a  young  girl's  gown ;  and  it  suited 
Geraldine's  slender,  rounded  throat  and  her  dainty  head 
with  its  heavy,  loosely  drawn  masses  of  brown  hair, 
just  shadowing  cheeks  and  brow. 

When  the  last  hook  was  looped  she  dismissed  her 
maid  for  the  night ;  Hilda  served  her  at  dinner,  but  she 
ate  little,  and  the  waitress  bore  away  the  last  of  the 
almost  untouched  food,  leaving  her  young  mistress 
seated  before  the  fire  and  looking  steadily  into  it. 

The  fire  was  a  good  one ;  the  fuel  oak  and  ash  and 
beech.  The  flames  made  a  silky,  rustling  sound;  now 
and  then  a  coal  fell  with  a  softly  agreeable  crash  and  a 
swarm  of  golden  sparks  whirled  up  the  chimney,  snap 
ping,  scintillating,  like  day  fireworks. 

Geraldine  sat  very  still,  her  mouth  resting  on  her 
white  wrist,  and  when  she  lifted  her  head  the  marks  of 
her  teeth  showed  on  the  skin.  Then  the  other  hand, 
clutching  the  arm  of  her  chair,  fell  to  her  side  cramped 

382 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


and  quivering ;  she  stood  up,  looked  at  the  fire,  pressed 
both  palms  across  her  eyes,  turned  and  began  to  pace 
the  room. 

To  and  fro  she  moved,  slowly,  quickly,  as  the  crav 
ing  for  motion  ebbed  or  increased.  At  times  she  made 
unconscious  movements  with  her  arms,  now  flinging 
them  wide,  now  flexing  the  muscles,  clenching  the  hands ; 
but  always  the  arms  fell  helpless,  hopeless ;  the  slim,  des 
perate  fingers  relaxed ;  and  she  moved  on  again,  to  and 
fro,  up  and  down,  turning  her  gaze  toward  the  clock 
each  time  she  passed  it. 

In  her  eyes  there  seemed  to  be  growing  a  dreadful 
sort  of  beauty ;  there  was  fire  in  them,  the  luminous 
brightness  of  the  tortured.  On  both  cheeks  a  splendid 
colour  glowed  and  waned;  the  slightly  drawn  lips  were 
vivid. 

But  this — all  of  it  changed  as  the  slow  minutes 
dragged  their  course;  into  the  brown  eyes  crept  the 
first  frosty  glimmer  of  desperation;  colour  faded  from 
the  face,  leaving  it  snowy  white;  the  fulness  of  the  lips 
vanished,  the  chin  seemed  to  grow  pointed,  and  under 
the  eyes  bluish  shadows  deepened.  It  promised  to  go 
hard  with  her  that  night;  it  was  already  going  very 
badly.  She  knew  it,  and  digging  her  nails  into  her 
delicate  palms,  set  her  teeth  together  and  drew  a  deep, 
unsteady  breath. 

She  had  looked  at  the  clock  four  times,  and  the 
hands  seemed  to  have  moved  no  more  than  a  minute's 
space  across  the  dial ;  and  once  more  she  turned  to  pace 
the  floor. 

Her  lips  had  lost  almost  all  their  colour  now;  they 
moved,  muttering  tremulous  incoherences ;  the  outline 
of  every  feature  grew  finer,  sharper,  more  spiritual,  but 
dreadfully  white. 

26  383 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


Later  she  found  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the 
couch,  face  buried  in  the  cushions,  her  small  teeth 
marking  her  wrist  again — heard  herself  crying  out  for 
somebody  to  help  her — yet  her  lips  had  uttered  no 
sound;  it  was  only  her  soul  in  its  agony,  while  the 
youthful,  curved  body  and  rigid  limbs  burnt  steadily  in 
hell's  own  flames. 

Again  she  raised  her  head  and  lifted  her  white  face 
toward  the  clock.  Only  a  minute  had  crept  by,  and 
she  turned,  twisting  her  interlocked  hands,  dry-eyed, 
dry  lips  parted,  and  stared  about  her.  Half  stupefied 
with  pain,  stunned,  dismayed  by  the  million  tiny  voices 
of  temptation  assailing  her,  dinning  in  her  senses,  she 
reeled  where  she  knelt,  fell  forward,  laid  her  slender 
length  across  the  hearth-rug,  and  set  her  teeth  in  her 
wrist  again,  choking  back  the  cry  of  terror  and  desola 
tion. 

And  there  her  senses  tricked  her — or  she  may  have 
lost  consciousness — for  it  seemed  that  the  next  mo 
ment  she  was  on  the  stairs,  moving  stealthily — where? 
God  and  her  tormented  body  seemed  to  know,  for  she 
caught  herself  halfway  down  the  stairs,  cried  out  on 
her  Maker  for  strength,  stood  swaying,  breathless, 
quivering  in  the  agony  of  it — and  dragged  herself 
back  and  up  the  stairs  once  more,  step  by  step,  to  the 
landing. 

For  a  moment  she  stood  there,  shaking,  ghastly, 
staring  down  into  the  regions  below,  where  relief  lay 
within  her  reach.  And  she  dared  not  even  stare  too 
long;  she  turned  blindly,  arms  outstretched,  feeling 
her  way  back.  Every  sense  within  her  seemed  for  the 
moment  deadened;  sounds  scarcely  penetrated,  had  no 
meaning ;  she  heard  the  grille  clash,  steps  on  the  stair ; 
she  was  trying  to  get  back  to  the  library,  paused  to 

384 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


rest  at  the  door,  was  caught  in  two  strong  arms,  drawn 
into  them: 

"  Duane,"  she  whispered. 

"  Darling !  " — and  as  he  saw  her  face — "  My 
God!" 

"  Mine,  too,  Duane.  Don't  be  afraid ;  I'm  holding 
firm,  so  far.  But  I  am  very,  very  ill.  Could  you  help 
me  a  little?  " 

"  Yes,  child ! — yes,  little  Geraldine — my  little,  little 
girl » 

"  Can  you  stay  near  me  ?  " 

"  Yes !     Good  God,  yes !  " 

"  How  long?  " 

"  As  long  as  you  want  me." 

"  Then  I  can  get  through  with  this.  I  think  to 
night  decides.  ...  If  you  will  remain  with  me — for 
a  while " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

He  drew  a  chair  to  the  fire;  she  sank  into  it;  he 
seated  himself  beside  her  and  she  clung  to  his  hand  with 
both  of  hers. 

His  eyes  fell  upon  her  wrist  where  the  marks  of  her 
teeth  were  imprinted;  he  felt  her  body  trembling,  saw 
the  tragedy  in  her  eyes,  rose,  lifted  her  as  though  she 
were  a  child,  and  seating  himself,  drew  her  close 
against  his  breast. 

The  night  was  a  hard  one;  sometimes  in  an  access 
of  pain  she  struggled  for  freedom,  and  all  his  strength 
was  needed  to  keep  her  where  she  lay.  At  times,  too, 
her  senses  seemed  clouded,  and  she  talked  incoherently ; 
sometimes  she  begged  for  reh'ef,  shamelessly  craved  it ; 
sometimes  she  used  all  her  force,  and,  almost  beside 
herself,  defied  him,  threatened  him,  turned  on  him  in 
furiated  ;  but  his  strength  held  her  locked  in  a  vicelike 

385 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


embrace,  and,  toward  morning,  she  suddenly  relaxed — 
crumpled  up  like  a  white  flower  in  his  arms.  For 
a  while  her  tears  fell  hot  and  fast;  then  utter  prostra 
tion  left  her  limp,  without  movement,  even  without  a 
tremor,  a  dead  weight  in  his  arms. 

And,  for  the  second  time  in  his  life,  lifting  her,  he 
bore  her  to  her  room,  laid  her  among  the  pillows, 
slipped  off  her  shoes,  and,  bending  above  her,  listened. 

She  slept  profoundly — but  it  was  not  the  stupor 
that  had  chained  her  limbs  that  other  time  when  he  had 
brought  her  here. 

He  went  into  the  library  and  waited  for  an  hour. 
Then,  very  quietly,  he  descended  the  stairs  and  let  him 
self  out  into  the  bitter  darkness  of  a  November  morn 
ing. 

About  noon  next  day  the  Seagraves'  brougham 
drew  up  before  the  Mallett  house  and  Geraldine,  in 
furs,  stepped  out  and  crossed  the  sidewalk  with  that 
swift,  lithe  grace  of  hers.  The  servant  opened  the 
grille;  she  entered  and  stood  by  the  great  marble- 
topped  hall-table  until  Duane  came  down.  Then  she 
gave  him  her  gloved  hands,  looking  him  straight  in  the 
eyes. 

She  was  still  pale  but  self-possessed,  and  wonder 
fully  pretty  in  her  fur  jacket  and  toque;  and  as  she 
stood  there,  both  hands  dropped  into  his,  that  name 
less  and  winning  grace  which  had  always  fascinated 
him  held  him  now — something  about  her  that  recalled 
the  child  in  the  garden  with  clustering  hair  and  slim, 
straight  limbs. 

"  You  look  about  fifteen,"  he  said,  "  you  beautiful, 
slender  thing!  Did  you  come  to  see  my  father?  " 

"  Yes — and  your  father's  son." 
386 


O, 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Me?  " 

"  Is  there  another  like  you,  Duane — in  all  the 
world?" 

"  Plenty " 

"  Hush!  .  .  .  When  did  you  go  last  night?  " 

"  When  you  left  me  for  the  land  of  dreams,  little 
lady." 

"  So  you — carried  me." 

He  smiled,  and  a  bright  flush  covered  her  cheeks. 

"  That  makes  twice,"  she  said  steadily. 

"  Yes,  dear." 

"  There  will  be  no  third  time." 

"  Not  unless  I  have  a  sleepy  wife  who  nods  before 
the  fire  like  a  drowsy  child." 

"  Do  you  want  that  kind?  " 

"  I  want  the  kind  that  lay  close  in  my  arms  before 
the  fire  last  night." 

"  Do  you  ?  I  think  I  should  like  the  sort  of  hus 
band  who  is  strong  enough  to  cradle  that  sort  of  a 
child.  .  .  .  Could  your  mother  and  Nai'da  receive  me? 
Could  I  see  your  father  ?  " 

"  Yes.  When  are  you  going  back  to  Roya- 
Neh?" 

"  To-night." 

He  said  quietly :  "  Is  it  safe  ?  " 

"  For  me  to  go  ?  Yes — yes,  my  darling  " — her 
hands  tightened  over  his — "  yes,  it  is  safe — because 
you  made  it  so.  If  you  knew — if  you  knew  what  is  in 
my  heart  to — to  give  you ! — what  I  wall  be  to  you  some 
day,  dearest  of  men " 

He  said  unsteadily :  "  Come  upstairs.  .  .  .  My  fa 
ther  is  very  feeble,  but  quite  cheerful.  Do  you  under 
stand  that — that  his  mind — his  memory,  rather,  is  a 
little  impaired?  " 

387 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


She  lifted  his  hands  and  laid  her  soft  lips  against 
them: 

"  Will  you  take  me  to  him,  Duane  ?  " 

Colonel  Mallett  lay  in  the  pale  November  sunlight, 
very  still,  his  hands  folded  on  his  breast.  And  at  first 
she  did  not  know  him  in  this  ghost  of  the  tall,  well- 
built,  gray-haired  man  with  ruddy  colour  and  firm,  clear 
skin. 

As  she  bent  over,  he  opened  his  eyes,  smiled,  pro 
nounced  her  name,  still  smiling  and  keeping  his  sunken 
eyes  on  her.  They  were  filmy  and  bluish,  like  the  eyes 
of  the  very  old;  and  the  hand  she  lifted  and  held  was 
the  stricken  hand  of  age — inert,  lifeless,  without  weight. 

She  said  that  she  was  so  happy  to  know  he  was  re 
covering;  she  told  him  how  proud  everybody  was  of 
Duane,  what  exceptional  talent  he  possessed,  how  won 
derfully  he  had  painted  Miller's  children.  She  spoke 
to  him  of  Roya-Neh,  and  how  interesting  it  had  become 
to  them  all,  told  him  about  the  wild  boar  and  her  own 
mishaps  with  the  guileful  pig. 

He  smiled,  watching  her  at  times;  but  his  wist 
ful  gaze  always  reverted  to  his  son,  who  sat  at  the  foot 
of  the  couch,  chin  balanced  between  his  long,  lean 
hands. 

"  You  won't  go,  will  you  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Where,  father?  " 

"  Away." 

"  No,  of  course  not." 

"  I  mean  with— Geraldine,"  he  said  feebly. 

"  If  I  did,  father,  we'd  take  you  with  us,"  he 
laughed. 

"  It  is  too  far,  my  son.  .  .  .  You  and  Geraldine 
are  going  too  far  for  me  to  follow.  .  .  .  Wait  a  little 
while." 

388 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Geraldine,  blushing,  bent  down  swiftly,  her  lips 
brushing  the  sick  man's  wasted  face: 

"  I  would  not  care  for  him  if  I  could  take  him  from 
you." 

"  Your  father  and  I  were  old  friends.  Your  grand 
father  was  a  very  fine  gentleman.  ...  I  am  glad.  .  .  . 
I  am  a  little  tired — a  little  confused.  Is  your  grand 
father  here  with  you?  I  would  like  to  see  him." 

She  said,  after  a  moment,  in  a  low  voice :  "  He  did 
not  come  with  me  to-day." 

"  Give  him  my  regards  and  compliments.  And  say 
to  him  that  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  see  him.  I  am 
not  very  well ;  has  he  heard  of  my  indisposition  ?  " 

"  I  think  he— has." 

"  Then  he  will  come,"  said  Colonel  Mallett  feebly. 
"  Duane,  you  are  not  going,  are  you  ?  I  am  a  little 
tired.  I  think  I  could  sleep  if  you  would  lower  the 
shade  and  ask  youtf  mother  to  sit  by  me.  .  .  .  But  you 
won't  go  until  I  am  asleep,  will  you  ?  " 

"  No,"  he  said  gently,  as  his  mother  and  Nai'da  en 
tered  and  Geraldine  rose  to  greet  them,  shocked  at  the 
change  in  Mrs.  Mallett. 

She  and  Nai'da  went  away  together;  later  Duane 
joined  them  in  the  library,  saying  that  his  father  was 
asleep,  holding  fast  to  his  wife's  hand. 

Geraldine,  her  arm  around  Naida's  waist,  had  been 
looking  at  one  of  Duane's  pictures — the  only  one  of  his 
in  the  house — merely  a  stretch  of  silvery  marsh  and  a 
gray,  wet  sky  beyond. 

"  Father  liked  it,"  he  said ;  "  that's  why  it's  here, 
Geraldine." 

"  You  never  made  one  brush-stroke  that  was  com 
monplace  in  all  your  life,"  said  Geraldine  abruptly. 
"  Even  I  can  see  that." 


THE   DAXGEB   MARK 


"  Such  praise  from  a  lady !  "  he  exclaimed,  laugh 
ing.  Geraldine  smiled,  too,  and  Naida's  pallid  face 
lightened  for  a  moment.  But  grief  had  set  its  seal  on 
the  house  of  Mallett;  that  was  plain  everywhere:  and 
when  Geraldine  kissed  Nalda  good-bye  and  walked  to 
the  door  beside  her  lover,  a  passion  of  tenderness  for 
him  and  his  overwhelmed  her,  and  when  he  put  her  into 
her  brougham  she  leaned  from  the  lowered  window, 
clinging  to  his  hand,  careless  of  who  might  see  them. 

**  Can  I  help  in  any  way?  **  she  whispered.  "  I  told 
you  that  my  fortune  is  still  my  own — most  of  it " 

"Dear,  wait!" 

There  was  a  strange  look  in  his  eyes:  she  said  no 
more  with  her  lips,  but  her  eyes  told  him  all.  Then  he 
stepped  back,  directing  Dunn  to  drive  his  mistress  to 
the  Commonwealth  Club,  where  she  was  to  lunch  with 
Sylvia  Quest,  whom  she  had  met  that  morning  in  the 
blockade  at  Forty-second  Street,  and  who  had  invited 
her  from  her  motor  across  the  crupper  of  a  traffic- 
policeman's  hone. 


BOX    CHTKV 

THE  chronology  of  that  last  dark  and  bitter 
in  November  might  hare  been  written 

On  Monday  Colonel  MaUett  died  about 
Wednesday  the  Hon.  John  D.  Ellis,  wmle  examining  an 
automatic  revolver  in  his  bath-room,  met  with  one  of 
those  unfortunate  and  fatal 
happen  in  times  of  great  financial 

Thursday  Amos  Flack  eaidemly 
ing  no  address ;  and  on  the  last  day  of  the  week 
uel  Klawber  poKtely  excoaed  himself  to  a  groo; 
solemn  gentlemen  who  had  been  assisting  M 
well-known  and  popular  game  of  "Hunt  the 
and,  stepping  outside  the  door  of  the  director's 
carefully  destroyed  what  little  fife  had  mot  already  been 
scared  out  of  his  three-hundred-poand  penam. 

It  had  been  raining  all  day;  Dysart  had  not  felt 
very  well,  and  K3awber*s  impieasant  performance  made 
him  ilL  He  stood  in  the  rain  watching  the  ambomace  ar 
riving  at  a  gallop,  then,  sickened,  turned  away  through 
tike  dark  and  dripping  crowds,  crossed  the  street,  and, 
lowering  his  head  against  the  storm,  drove  both  gtoved 
hands  deep  into  the  pockets  of  his  fashionably  cot 
coat,  and  started  for  home. 

It  mattered  nothing  to  him  tbat  several 
ing  newspaper  men  might  desire  to  jeuuc 
of  Mr.  Klawber's  taking  off.  or  of  his  i  inlaailiiai  for 

~  -59: 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


it  or  his  sensations  concerning  it.  It  mattered  nothing 
to  him  that  the  afternoon  papers  reported  the  arrest  of 
James  Skelton,  or  that  Max  Moebus  had  inadvertently, 
and  no  doubt  in  a  moment  of  intense  abstraction,  taken 
a  steamer  for  Europe  and  the  books  of  the  Shoshone 
Bank. 

These  matters,  now  seemed  a  great  way  off — too 
unreal  to  be  of  personal  moment.  He  was  feeling  sick ; 
that  occupied  his  mind.  Also  the  slush  on  the  side 
walk  had  wet  through  his  shoes,  which  probably  was 
not  good  for  his  cough. 

It  was  scarcely  two  in  the  afternoon,  yet  there  re 
mained  so  little  daylight  that  the  electricity  burned 
in  the  shops  along  Fifth  Avenue.  Through  a  smutty, 
grayish  gloom,  rain  drove  densely;  his  hat  and  water 
proof  coat  were  heavy  with  it,  the  bottoms  of  his 
trousers  soaked. 

Passing  the  Patroons  Club  it  occurred  to  him  that 
hot  whiskey  might  extinguish  his  cough.  The  liver 
ied  servants  at  the  door,  in  the  cloak-room — the  page 
who  took  his  order,  the  white-headed  butler  who  had 
always  personally  served  him,  and  who  served  him 
now,  all  hesitated  and  gazed  curiously  at  him.  He 
paid  no  attention  at  the  time  but  remembered  it  after 
ward. 

For  an  hour  he  sat  alone  in  the  vast  empty  room  be 
fore  a  fire  of  English  cannel  coal,  taking  his  hot  whis 
key  and  lemon  in  slow,  absent-minded  gulps.  Patches 
of  deep  colour  lay  flat  under  his  cheek-bones,  his  sunken 
abstracted  eyes  never  left  the  coals. 

The  painted  gaze  of  dead  Presidents  and  Governors 
looked  down  at  him  from  their  old-time  frames  ranged 
in  stately  ranks  along  the  oaken  wainscot.  Over  the 
mantel  the  amazing,  Hebraic  countenance  of  a  moose 

392 


BON   CHIEN 


leered  at  him  out  of  little  sly,  sardonic  little  eyes, 
almost  bantering  in  their  evil  immobility. 

He  had  presented  the  trophy  to  the  club  after  a 
trip  somewhere,  leaving  the  impression  that  he  had  shot 
it.  He  seldom  looked  at  it,  never  at  the  silver-engraved 
inscription  on  the  walnut  shield. 

Strangely  enough,  now  as  he  sat  there,  he  thought 
of  the  trophy  and  looked  up  at  it ;  and  for  the  first  time 
in  his  life  read  the  inscription. 

It  made  no  visible  impression  upon  him  except  that 
for  a  brief  moment  the  small  and  vivid  patches  of  col 
our  in  his  wasted  cheeks  faintly  tinted  the  general  pal 
lor.  But  this  died  out  as  soon  as  it  appeared; 
he  drank  deliberately,  set  the  hot  glass  on  a  table  at 
his  elbow,  long,  bony  fingers  still  retaining  a  grip 
upon  it. 

And  into  his  unconcentrated  thoughts,  strangely 
enough,  came  the  memories  of  little  meannesses  which  he 
had  committed — trivial  things  that  he  supposed  he  had 
forgotten  long  ago ;  and  at  first,  annoyed,  he  let  mem 
ory  drift. 

But,  imperceptibly,  from  the  shallows  of  these 
little  long-forgotten  meannesses,  memory  drifted  un 
controlled  into  deeper  currents ;  and,  disdainful,  he 
made  no  effort  to  control  it ;  and  later,  could  not. 
And  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  he  took  the  trouble  to 
understand  the  reason  of  his  unpopularity  among  men. 
He  had  cared  nothing  for  them. 

He  cared  nothing  for  them  now,  unless  that  half 
tolerant,  half  disdainful  companionship  of  years  with 
Delancy  Grandcourt  could  be  called  caring  for  a  man. 
If  their  relations  ever  had  been  anything  more  than  a 
habit  he  did  not  know;  on  what  their  friendship  had 
ever  been  founded  he  could  not  tell.  It  had  been  his 

393 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


habit  to  take  from  Delancy,  accept,  or  help  himself. 
He  had  helped  himself  to  Rosalie  Dene;  and  not  long 
ago  he  had  accepted  all  that  Delancy  offered,  almost 
convinced  at  the  time  that  it  would  disappear  in  the 
debacle  when  the  Algonquin  crumbled  into  a  rubbish 
heap  of  rotten  securities. 

A  curious  friendship — and  the  only  friend  he  ever 
had  had  among  men — stupid,  inertly  at  hand,  as  in 
evitably  to  be  counted  on  as  some  battered  toy  of  child 
hood  which  escaped  the  dust  heap  so  long  that  custom 
tolerates  its  occupation  of  any  closet  space  convenient: 
and  habit,  at  intervals,  picks  it  up  to  see  what's  left 
of  it. 

He  had  finished  his  whiskey ;  the  fire  seemed  to  have 
grown  too  hot,  and  he  shoved  back  his  chair.  But  the 
room,  too,  was  becoming  close,  even  stifling.  Perspi 
ration  glistened  on  his  forehead;  he  rose  and  began  to 
wander  from  room  to  room,  followed  always  by  the 
stealthy  glances  of  servants. 

The  sweat  on  his  face  had  become  unpleasantly 
cold;  he  came  back  to  the  fire,  endured  it  for  a  few 
moments,  then,  burning  and  shivering  at  the  same  time, 
and  preferring  the  latter  sensation,  he  went  out  to  his 
letter-box  and  unlocked  it.  There  was  only  one  enve 
lope  there,  a  letter  from  the  governing  board  of  the 
club  requesting  his  resignation. 

The  possibility  of  such  an  event  had  never  occurred 
to  him ;  he  read  the  letter  again,  folded  and  placed  it  in 
his  pocket,  went  back  to  the  fire  with  the  idea  of  burn 
ing  it,  took  it  out,  read  it  again,  folded  it  absently, 
and  replaced  it  in  his  pocket. 

At  that  time,  except  for  the  dull  surprise,  the  epi 
sode  did  not  seem  to  affect  him  particularly.  So  many 

394 


BON   CHIEN 


things  had  been  accumulating,  so  many  matters  had 
been  menacing  him,  that  one  cloud  more  among  the 
dark,  ominous  masses  gathering  made  no  deeper  im 
pression  than  slight  surprise. 

For  a  while  he  stood  motionless,  hands  in  his 
trousers'  pockets,  head  lowered;  then,  as  somebody  en 
tered  the  farther  door,  he  turned  instinctively  and 
stepped  into  a  private  card  room,  closing  the  polished 
mahogany  door.  The  door  opened  a  moment  later  and 
Delancy  Grandcourt  walked  in. 

"  Hello,"  he  said  briefly.  Dysart,  by  the  win 
dow,  looked  around  at  him  without  any  expression 
whatever. 

"  Have  you  heard  about  Klawber?  "  asked  Delancy. 
"  They're  calling  the  extra." 

Dysart  looked  out  of  the  window.  "  That's  fast 
work,"  he  said. 

Grandcourt  stood  for  a  while  in  silence,  then  seated 
himself,  saying: 

"  He  ought  to  have  lived  and  tried  to  make  good." 

"  He  couldn't." 

"  He  ought  to  have  tried.  What's  the  good  of  ly 
ing  down  that  way?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     I  guess  he  was  tired." 

"  That  doesn't  relieve  his  creditors." 

"  No,  but  it  relieves  Klawber." 

Grandcourt  said :  "  You  always  view  things  from 
that  side,  don't  you?  " 

"What  side?" 

"  That  of  personal  convenience." 

"Yes.     Why  not?" 

"  I  don't  know.     Where  is  it  landing  you  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  gone  into  that  very  thoroughly." 
There  was  a  trace  of  irritation  in  Dysart's  voice;  he 

395 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


passed  one  hand  over  his  forehead ;  it  was  icy,  and  the 
hair  on  it  damp.  "  What  the  devil  do  you  want  of 
me,  anyway  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Nothing.  ...  I  have  never  wanted  anything  of 
you,  have  I  ?  " 

Dysart  walked  the  width  of  the  room,  then  the 
length  of  it,  then  came  and  stood  by  the  table,  resting 
on  it  with  one  thin  hand,  in  which  his  damp  handker 
chief  was  crushed  to  a  wad. 

"  What  is  it  you've  got  to  say,  Delancy?  Is  it 
about  that  loan  ?  " 

"  No.  Have  you  heard  a  word  out  of  me  about 
it?" 

"  You've  been  devilish  glum.  Good  God,  I  don't 
blame  you;  I  ought  not  to  have  touched  it;  I  must 
have  been  crazy  to  let  you  try  to  help  me " 

"  It  was  my  affair.  What  I  choose  to  do  concerns 
myself,"  said  Grandcourt,  his  heavy,  troubled  face 
turning  redder.  "  And,  Jack,  I  understand  that  my 
father  is  making  things  disagreeable  for  you.  I've 
told  him  not  to ;  and  you  mustn't  let  it  worry  you,  be 
cause  what  I  had  was  my  own  and  what  I  did  with  it 
my  own  business." 

"  Anyway,"  observed  Dysart,  after  a  moment's  re 
flection,  "  your  family  is  wealthy." 

A  darker  flush  stained  Grandcourt's  face;  and  Dy- 
sart's  misinterpretation  of  his  philosophy  almost  stung 
him  into  fierce  retort;  but  as  his  heavy  lips  unclosed 
in  anger,  his  eyes  fell  on  Dysart's  ravaged  face,  and  he 
sat  silent,  his  personal  feelings  merged  in  an  ever 
growing  anxiety. 

"  Why  do  you  cough  like  that,  Jack?  "  he  demanded 
after  a  paroxysm  had  shaken  the  other  into  an  arm 
chair,  where  he  lay  sweating  and  panting: 

396 


BON   CHIEN 


"  It's  a  cold,"  Dysart  managed  to  say ;  "  been 
hanging  on  for  a  month." 

"  Three  months,"  said  Grandcourt  tersely.  "  Why 
don't  you  take  care  of  it?  " 

There  was  a  silence;  nothing  more  was  said  about 
the  cold;  and  presently  Grandcourt  drew  a  letter  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  silently  to  Dysart.  It  was  in 
Rosalie's  handwriting,  dated  two  months  before,  and 
directed  to  Dysart  at  Baltimore.  The  post-office  au 
thorities  had  marked  it,  "  No  address,"  and  had 
returned  it  a  few  days  since  to  the  sender. 

These  details  Dysart  noticed  on  the  envelope  and 
the  heading  of  the  first  page ;  he  glanced  over  a  line  or 
two,  lowered  the  letter,  and  looked  questioningly  over 
it  at  Grandcourt: 

"  What's  it  about? — if  you  know,"  he  asked  wear 
ily.  "  I'm  not  inclined  just  now  to  read  anything  that 
may  be  unpleasant." 

Grandcourt  said  quietly: 

"  I  have  not  read  the  letter,  but  your  wife  has  told 
me  something  of  what  it  contains.  She  wrote  and 
mailed  it  to  you  weeks  ago — before  the  crash — saying, 
I  believe,  that  adversity  was  not  the  time  for  the  settle 
ment  of  domestic  differences,  and  that  if  her  private 
fortune  could  avert  disaster,  you  were  to  write  imme 
diately  to  her  attorneys." 

Dysart  gazed  at  him  as  though  stunned;  then  his 
dull  gaze  fell  once  more  on  the  envelope.  He  examined 
it,  went  all  over  it  with  lack-lustre  eyes,  laid  it  aside, 
and  finally  began  to  read  his  wife's  letter — the  letter 
that  had  never  reached  him  because  he  had  used  another 
name  on  the  hotel  register  in  Baltimore. 

Grandcourt  watched  him  with  painful  interest  as  he 
sat,  hunched  up,  coughing  at  intervals,  and  poring  over 

397 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


his  wife's  long,  angular  chirography.  There  was  much 
between  the  lines  to  read,  but  Dysart  could  never  read 
it;  much  to  understand,  but  he  could  never  under 
stand  it. 

"  Delancy  tells  me,"  she  wrote,  "  that  you  are 
threatened  with  very  serious  difficulties.  Once  or  twice 
you  yourself  have  said  as  much  to  me;  and  my  answer 
was  that  they  no  longer  concerned  me. 

"  The  situation  is  this :  I  have,  as  you  know,  con 
sulted  counsel  with  a  view  to  begin  proceedings  for  a 
separation.  This  has  been  discontinued — temporarily, 
at  any  rate — because  I  have  been  led  to  believe  by  your 
friend,  Delancy  Grandcourt,  that  the  present  is  no  time 
to  add  to  your  perplexities. 

"  He  has,  I  may  add,  induced  me  to  believe  other 
things  which  my  better  sense  rejects;  but  no  woman's 
logic — which  is  always  half  sentiment — could  remain 
unshaken  by  the  simple  loyalty  to  you  and  to  me  of 
this  friend  of  yours  and  of  mine.  And  this  letter  would 
never  have  been  written  except,  practically,  at  his  dic 
tation.  Kindly  refrain  from  showing  it  to  him  as  my 
acknowledgment  here  of  his  influence  in  the  matter 
would  grieve  him  very  deeply. 

"  Because  he  believes  that  it  is  still  possible  for  you 
and  me  to  return  to  civilised  relations ;  he  believes  that 
I  care  for  you,  that,  in  your  own  leisurely  and  super 
ficial  fashion,  you  still  really  honour  the  vows  that 
bound  you — still  in  your  heart  care  for  me.  Let  him 
believe  it;  and  if  you  will,  for  his  sake,  let  us  resume 
the  surface  semblance  of  a  common  life  which,  until  he 
persuaded  me,  I  was  determined  to  abandon. 

"  It  is  an  effort  to  write  this ;  I  do  it  for  his  sake, 
and,  in  that  way,  for  yours.  I  don't  think  you  care 
about  me ;  I  don't  think  you  ever  did  or  ever  will.  Yet 

398 


BON   CHIEN 


you  must  know  how  it  was  with  me  until  I  could  endure 
my  isolation  no  longer.  And  I  say  to  you  perfectly 
frankly  that  now  I  care  more  for  this  friend  of  yours, 
Delancy  Grandcourt,  than  I  care  for  anybody  in  the 
world.  Which  is  why  I  write  you  to  offer  what  I  have 
offered,  and  to  say  that  if  my  private  fortune  can  carry 
you  through  the  disaster  which  is  so  plainly  impend 
ing,  please  write  to  my  attorneys  at  once  as  they  have 
all  power  in  the  matter." 

The  postscript  was  dated  ten  days  later,  from 
Dysart's  own  house: 

"  Receiving  no  reply,  I  telephoned  you,  but  Bran 
don  says  you  are  away  from  the  city  on  business  and 
have  left  no  address,  so  I  took  the  liberty  of  entering 
your  house,  selecting  this  letter  from  the  mass  of  nine 
days'  old  mail  awaiting  you,  and  shall  direct  it  to  you 
at  the  hotel  in  Baltimore  where  Bunny  Gray  says  that 
somebody  has  seen  you  several  times  with  a  Mr. 
Skelton." 

As  Dysart  read,  he  wiped  the  chilly  perspiration 
from  his  haggard  face  at  intervals,  never  taking  his 
eyes  from  the  written  pages.  And  at  last  he  finished 
his  wife's  letter,  sat  very  silent,  save  when  the  cough 
shook  him,  the  sheets  of  the  letter  lying  loosely  in  his 
nerveless  hand. 

It  was  becoming  plain  to  him,  in  a  confused  sort 
of  way,  that  something  beside  bad  luck  and  his  own 
miscalculations,  was  working  against  him — had  been 
stealthily  moving  toward  his  undoing  for  a  year,  now; 
something  occult,  sinister,  inexorable. 

He  thought  of  the  register  at  the  hotel  in  Balti 
more,  of  the  name  he  lived  under  there  during  that  in 
terval  in  his  career  for  which  he  had  accounted  to  no 
body,  and  never  would  account — on  earth.  And  into 

399 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


his  memory  rose  the  pale  face  of  Sylvia  Quest ;  and  he 
looked  down  at  the  letter  trembling  in  his  hand  and 
thought  of  her  and  of  his  wife  and  of  the  Algonquin 
Trust  Company,  and  of  the  chances  of  salvation  he  had 
missed. 

Grandcourt  sat  looking  at  him;  there  was  some 
thing  in  his  gaze  almost  doglike: 

"  Have  you  read  it?  "  he  asked. 

Dysart  glanced  up  abstractedly :  "  Yes." 

"Is  it  what  I  told  you?" 

"  Yes — substantially."  He  dried  his  damp  face ; 
"  it  comes  rather  late,  you  know." 

"  Not  too  late,"  said  the  other,  mistaking  him ; 
"  your  wife  is  still  ready  to  meet  you  half-way,  Jack." 

"  Oh — that?  I  meant  the  Algonquin  matter — "  He 
checked  himself,  seeing  for  the  first  time  in  his  life 
contempt  distorting  Grandcourt's  heavy  face. 

"  Man !  Man !  "  he  said  thickly,  "  is  there  nothing 
in  that  letter  for  you  except  money  offered?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  I  say,  is  there  nothing  in  that  message  to  you 
that  touches  the  manhood  in  you  ?  " 

"  You  don't  know  what  is  in  it,"  said  Dysart  list 
lessly.  Even  Grandcourt's  contempt  no  longer  pro 
duced  any  sensation;  he  looked  at  the  letter,  tore  it 
into  long  strips,  crumpled  them  and  stood  up  with  a 
physical  effort: 

"  I'm  going  to  burn  this.  Have  you  anything  else 
to  say  ?  " 

"  Yes.  Good  God,  Jack,  don't  you  care  for  your 
wife?  Can't  you?" 

"  No." 

"Why?" 

"  I  don't  know."  His  tone  became  querulous. 
400 


BON   CHIEN 


"  How  can  a  man  tell  why  he  becomes  indifferent  to  a 
woman?  I  don't  know.  I  never  did  know.  I  can't 
explain  it.  But  he  does." 

Grandcourt  stared  at  him.  And  suddenly  the  latent 
fear  that  had  been  torturing  him  for  the  last  two  weeks 
died  out  utterly:  this  man  would  never  need  watching 
to  prevent  any  attempt  at  self-destruction;  this  man 
before  him  was  not  of  that  caste.  His  self-centred  ab 
sorption  was  of  a  totally  different  nature. 

He  said,  very  red  in  the  face,  but  with  a  voice  well 
modulated  and  even: 

"  I  think  I've  made  a  good  deal  of  an  ass  of  myself. 
I  think  I  may  safely  be  cast  for  that  role  in  future. 
Most  people,  including  yourself,  think  I'm  fitted  for 
it;  and  most  people,  and  yourself,  are  right.  And  I'll 
admit  it  now  by  taking  the  liberty  of  asking  you  whom 
you  were  with  in  Baltimore." 

"  None  of  your  damned  business ! "  said  Dysart, 
wheeling  short  on  him. 

"  Perhaps  not.  I  did  not  believe  it  at  the  time,  but 
I  do  now.  .  .  .  And  her  brother  is  after  you  with  a 
gun." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  That  you'd  better  get  out  of  town  unless  you 
want  an  uglier  scandal  on  your  hands." 

Dysart  stood  breathing  fast  and  with  such  effort 
that  his  chest  moved  visibly  as  the  lungs  strained  un 
der  the  tension: 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  drunken  whelp  suspects 
anything  so — so  wildly  absurd 

"  Which  drunken  whelp  ?  There  are  several  in 
town?" 

Dysart  glared  at  him,  careless  of  what  he  might 
now  believe. 

401 


"  I  take  it  you  mean  that  little  cur,  Quest." 

"  Yes,  I  happen  to  mean  Quest." 

Dysart  gave  an  ugly  laugh  and  turned  short  on  his 
heel: 

"  The  whole  damn  lot  of  you  make  me  sick,"  he  said. 
"  So  does  this  club." 

A  servant  held  his  rain-coat  and  handed  him  his  hat ; 
he  shook  his  bent  shoulders,  stifled  a  cough,  and  went 
out  into  the  rain. 

In  his  own  home  his  little  old  father,  carefully  be- 
wigged,  painted,  cleaned  and  dressed,  came  trotting  into 
the  lamp-lit  living-room  fresh  from  the  ministrations 
of  his  valet. 

"  There  you  are,  Jack ! — te-he !  Oh,  yes,  there  you 
are,  you  young  dog ! — all  a-drip  with  rain  for  the  love 
o'  the  ladies,  eh,  Jack?  Te-he — one's  been  here  to 
see  you — a  little  white  doll  in  chinchillas,  and  scared 
to  death  at  my  civilities — as  though  she  knew  the  Dy- 
sarts — te-he!  Oh,  yes,  the  Dysarts,  Jack.  But  it  was 
monstrous  imprudent,  my  son — and  a  good  thing  that 
your  wife  remains  at  Lenox  so  late  this  season — te-he! 
A  lucky  thing,  you  young  dog!  And  what  the  devil  do 
you  mean  by  it — eh?  What  d'ye  mean,  I  say!  " 

Leering,  peering,  his  painted  lips  pursed  up,  the 
little  old  man  seated  himself,  gazing  with  dim,  restless 
eyes  at  the  shadowy  blur  which  represented  to  him  his 
handsome  son — a  Dysart  all  through,  elegant,  debo 
nair,  resistless,  and,  married  or  single,  fatal  to  feminine 
peace  of  mind.  Generations  ago  Dysarts  had  been 
shot  very  conventionally  at  ten  paces  owing  to  this 
same  debonair  resistlessness ;  Dysarts  had  slipped  into 
and  out  of  all  sorts  of  unsavoury  messes  on  account  of 
this  fatal  family  failing;  some  had  been  neatly  winged, 
some  thrust  through;  some,  in  a  more  sordid  age,  per- 

402 


BON   CH1EN 


mitted  counsel  of  ability  to  explain  to  a  jury  how  guilt 
less  a  careless  gentleman  could  be  under  the  most  un 
fortunate  and  extenuating  appearances. 

The  son  stood  in  his  wet  clothes,  haggard,  lined, 
ghastly  in  contrast  to  the  startling  red  of  his  lips, 
looking  at  his  smirking  father:  then  he  leaned  over 
and  touched  a  bell. 

"  Who  was  it  who  called  on  Mrs.  Dysart  ? "  he 
asked,  as  a  servant  appeared. 

"  Miss  Quest,  sir,"  said  the  man,  accepting  the  cue 
with  stolid  philosophy. 

"  Did  Miss  Quest  leave  any  message?  " 

"  Yes,  sir :  Miss  Quest  desired  Mrs.  Dysart  to  tele 
phone  her  on  Mrs.  Dysart's  return  from — the  coun 
try,  sir — it  being  a  matter  of  very  great  importance." 

"  Thank  you." 

"  Thank  you,  sir." 

The  servant  withdrew;  the  son  stood  gazing  into 
the  hallway.  Behind  him  his  father  mumbled  and  mut 
tered  and  chuckled  to  himself  in  his  easy-chair  by  the 
fire! 

"  Te-he !  They  are  all  alike,  the  Dysarts — oh,  yes, 
all  alike !  And  now  it's  that  young  dog — Jack ! — te-he ! 
— yes,  it's  Jack,  now!  But  he's  a  good  son,  my  boy 
Jack;  he's  a  good  son  to  me  and  he's  all  Dysart,  all 
Dysart;  bon  chien  chasse  de  race! — te-he!  Oui,  ma 
fois! — bon  chien  chasse  de  race." 


CHAPTER     XIX 

QUESTIONS    AND    ANSWERS 

BY  the  first  of  January  it  became  plain  that  there 
was  not  very  much  left  of  Colonel  Mallett's  fortune, 
less  of  his  business  reputation,  and  even  less  of  his  wife's 
health.  But  she  was  now  able  to  travel,  and  toward 
the  middle  of  the  month  she  sailed  with  Nai'da  and  one 
maid  for  Naples,  leaving  her  son  to  gather  up  and 
straighten  out  what  little  of  value  still  remained  in  the 
wreckage  of  the  house  of  Mallett.  What  he  cared  most 
about  was  to  straighten  out  his  father's  personal  rep 
utation;  and  this  was  possible  only  as  far  as  it  con 
cerned  Colonel  Mallett's  individual  honesty.  But  the 
rehabilitation  was  accomplished  at  the  expense  of  his 
father's  reputation  for  business  intelligence;  and  New 
York  never  really  excuses  such  things. 

Not  much  remained  after  the  amounts  due  every 
creditor  had  been  checked  up  and  provided  for ;  and  it 
took  practically  all  Duane  had,  almost  all  Nai'da  had, 
and  also  the  sacrifice  of  the  town  house  and  country  villa 
to  properly  protect  those  who  had  suffered.  Part  of 
his  mother's  estate  remained  intact,  enough  to  permit 
her  and  her  daughter  to  live  by  practising  those  in 
consequential  economies,  the  necessity  for  which  fills 
Europe  with  about  the  only  sort  of  Americans  culti 
vated  foreigners  can  tolerate,  and  for  which  predatory 
Europeans  have  no  use  whatever. 

As  for  Duane,  matters  were  now  in  such  shape  that 
404 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

he  found  it  possible  to  rent  a  studio  with  adjoining  bath 
and  bedroom — an  installation  which,  at  one  time,  was 
more  than  he  expected  to  be  able  to  afford. 

The  loss  of  that  luxury,  which  custom  had  made  a 
necessity,  filled  his  daily  life  full  of  trifling  annoyances 
and  surprises  which  were  often  unpleasant  and  some 
times  humorous ;  but  the  new  and  arid  order  of  things 
kept  him  so  busy  that  he  had  little  time  for  the  apathy, 
bitterness,  or  self-commiseration  which,  in  linked  se 
quence,  usually  follow  sudden  disaster. 

Sooner  or  later  it  was  inevitable  that  he  must  feel 
more  keenly  the  death  of  a  father  who,  until  in  the 
shadow  of  impending  disaster,  had  never  offered  him  a 
very  close  intimacy.  Their  relations  had  been  merely 
warm  and  pleasant — an  easy  camaraderie  between 
friends — neither  questioned  the  other's  rights  to 
reticence  and  privacy.  Their  mutual  silence  concern 
ing  business  pursuits  was  instinctive;  neither  father 
nor  son  understood  the  other's  affairs,  nor  were  they  in 
terested  except  in  the  success  of  a  good  comrade. 

It  was  inevitable  that,  in  years  to  come,  the  realisa 
tion  of  his  loss  would  become  keener  and  deeper;  but 
now,  in  the  reaction  from  shock,  and  in  the  anxiety  and 
stress  and  dire  necessity  for  activity,  only  the  surface 
sorrow  was  understood — the  pity  of  it,  the  distressing 
circumstances  surrounding  the  death  of  a  good  father, 
a  good  friend,  and  a  personally  upright  man. 

The  funeral  was  private ;  only  the  immediate  family 
attended.  Duane  had  written  to  Geraldine,  Kath 
leen,  and  Scott  not  to  come,  and  he  had  also  asked  if 
he  might  not  go  to  them  when  the  chance  arrived. 

And  now  the  chance  had  come  at  last,  in  the  dead  of 
winter ;  but  the  prospect  of  escape  to  Geraldine  bright 
ened  the  whole  world  for  him  and  gilded  the  snowy 

405 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


streets  of  the  city  with  that  magic  radiance  no  flaming 
planet  ever  cast. 

He  had  already  shipped  a  crate  of  canvases  to 
Roya-Neh ;  his  trunk  had  gone,  and  now,  checking  with 
an  amused  shrug  a  natural  impulse  to  hail  a  cab,  he 
swung  his  suit-case  and  himself  aboard  a  car,  bound 
for  the  Patroons  Club,  where  he  meant  to  lunch  before 
taking  the  train  for  Roya-Neh. 

He  had  not  been  to  the  club  since  the  catastrophe 
and  his  father's  death,  and  he  was  very  serious  and 
sombre  and  slightly  embarrassed  when  he  entered. 

A  servant  took  his  coat  and  suit-case  with  marked 
but  subdued  respect.  Men  whom  he  knew  and  some  men 
whom  he  scarcely  knew  at  all  made  it  a  point  to  speak 
to  him  or  bow  to  him  with  a  cordiality  too  pointed  not 
to  affect  him,  because  in  it  he  recognised  the  accept 
ance  of  what  he  had  fought  for — the  verdict  that  pub 
licly  exonerated  his  father  from  anything  worse  than  a 
bad  but  honest  mistake. 

For  a  second  or  two  he  stood  in  the  great  marble 
rotunda  looking  around  him.  In  that  club  familiar 
figures  were  lacking — men  whose  social  and  financial  po 
sition  only  a  few  months  before  seemed  impregnable,  men 
who  had  gone  down  in  ruin,  one  or  two  who  had  perished 
by  their  own  hand,  several  whose  physical  and  financial 
stamina  had  been  shattered  at  the  same  terrible  moment. 
Some  were  ill,  some  dead,  some  had  resigned,  others  had 
been  forced  to  write  their  resignations — such  men  as 
Dysart  for  example,  and  James  Skelton,  now  in  prison, 
unable  to  furnish  bail. 

But  the  Patroons  was  a  club  of  men  above  the 
average;  a  number  among  them  even  belonged  to  the 
Pyramid;  and  the  financial  disasters  of  that  summer 
and  winter  had  spared  no  club  in  the  five  boroughs 

406 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

and  no  membership  list  had  been  immune  from  the  sin 
ister  consequences  of  a  crash  that  had  resounded  from 
ocean  to  ocean  and  had  set  humble  and  great  scurrying 
to  cover  in  every  Bourse  of  the  civilised  world. 

As  he  entered  the  dining-room  and  passed  to  his 
usual  table,  he  caught  sight  of  Delancy  Grandcourt 
lunching  alone  at  the  table  directly  behind  him. 

"  Hello,  Delancy,"  he  said;  "  shall  we  join  forces?  " 

"  I'd  be  glad  to ;  it's  very  kind  of  you,  Duane,"  re 
plied  Grandcourt,  showing  his  pleasure  at  the  proposal 
in  the  direct  honesty  of  his  response.  Few  men  con 
sidered  it  worth  while  to  cultivate  Grandcourt.  To 
lunch  with  him  was  a  bore;  a  tete-a-tete  with  him  as 
sumed  the  proportions  of  a  visitation ;  his  slowness  and 
stupidity  had  become  proverbial  in  that  club;  and  yet 
almost  the  only  foundation  for  it  had  been  Dysart's 
attitude  toward  him;  and  men's  estimate  of  him  was 
the  more  illogical  because  few  men  really  cared  for  Dy 
sart's  opinions.  But  Dysart  had  introduced  him,  elected 
him,  and  somehow  had  contrived  to  make  the  public 
accept  his  half-sneering  measure  of  Grandcourt  as 
Grandcourt's  true  stature.  And  the  man,  being  shy, 
reticent,  slow  to  anger,  slower  still  to  take  his  own 
part,  was  tolerated  and  good-humouredly  avoided 
when  decently  possible.  So  much  for  the  average  man's 
judgment  of  an  average  man. 

Seated  opposite  to  Duane,  Grandcourt  expressed 
his  pleasure  at  seeing  him  with  a  simplicity  that 
touched  the  other.  Then,  in  perfectly  good  taste,  but 
with  great  diffidence,  he  spoke  of  Duane's  bereavement. 

For  a  little  while  they  asked  and  answered  those 
amiably  formal  questions  convention  requires  under 
similar  circumstances ;  then  Duane  spoke  of  Dysart 
27  407 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


gravely,  because  new  rumours  were  rife  concerning 
him,  even  a  veiled  hint  of  possible  indictment  and 
arrest. 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Grandcourt,  his  heavy  features 
becoming  troubled ;  "  he  is  a  broken  man,  and  no  court 
and  jury  can  punish  him  more  severely  than  he  has 
been  punished.  Nor  do  I  know  what  they  could  get 
out  of  him.  He  has  nothing  left;  everything  he  pos 
sessed  has  been  turned  over.  He  sits  all  day  in  a  house 
that  is  no  longer  his,  doing  nothing,  hoping  nothing, 
hearing  nothing,  except  the  childish  babble  of  his  old 
father  or  the  voices  from  the  hall  below,  where  his  ser 
vants  are  fighting  off  reporters  and  cranks  and  people 
with  grievances.  Oh,  I  tell  you,  Duane,  it's  pitiable,  all 
right !  " 

"  There  was  a  rumour  yesterday  of  his  suicide," 
said  Duane  in  a  low  voice.  "  I  did  not  credit  it." 

Grandcourt  shook  his  head :  "  He  never  would  do 
that.  He  totally  lacks  whatever  you  call  it — coward 
ice  or  courage — to  do  that.  It  is  not  like  Dysart ;  it  is 
not  in  him  to  do  it.  He  never  will,  never  could.  I 
know  him,  Duane." 

Duane  nodded. 

Grandcourt  spoke  again :  "  He  cares  for  few  things ; 
life  is  one  of  them.  His  father,  his  social  position,  his 
harmless — success  with  women — "  Grandcourt  hesi 
tated,  caught  Duane's  eye.  Both  men's  features  be 
came  expressionless. 

Duane  said :  "  I  had  an  exceedingly  nice  note  from 
Rosalie  the  other  day.  She  has  bought  one  of  those 
double-deck  apartments — but  I  fancy  you  know  about 
"it." 

"  Yes,"  said  Grandcourt,  turning  red.  "  She  was 
good  enough  to  ask  my  opinion."  He  added  with  a 

408 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

laugh :  "  I  shouldn't  think  anybody  would  want  my 
opinion  after  the  way  I've  smashed  my  own  affairs." 

Duanc  smiled,  too.  "  I've  heard,"  he  said,  "  that 
yours  was  the  decentest  smash  of  the  season.  What  is 
that  scriptural  business  about — about  a  man  who  lays 
down  his  fortune  for  a  friend?  " 

"  His  life,"  corrected  Grandcourt,  very  red,  "  but 
please  don't  confound  what  I  did  with  anything  of 
importance  to  anybody."  He  lighted  a  cigar  from 
the  burning  match  offered  by  Duane,  very  much  em 
barrassed  for  a  moment,  then  suddenly  brightened 
up: 

"  I'm  in  business  now,"  he  observed,  with  a  glance 
at  the  other,  partly  timid,  partly  of  pride.  "  My 
father  was  thoroughly  disgusted  with  me — and  nobody 
blames  him — so  he  bought  me  a  seat  and,  Duane,  do 
you  know  that  I  am  doing  rather  well,  considering  that 
nobody  is  doing  anything  at  all." 

Duane  laughed  heartily,  but  his  mirth  did  not  hurt 
Grandcourt,  who  sat  smiling  and  enjoying  his  cigar, 
and  looking  with  confidence  into  a  face  that  was  so 
frankly  and  unusually  friendly. 

"  You  know  I  always  admired  you,  Duane — even  in 
the  days  when  you  never  bothered  your  head  about 
me,"  he  added  nai'vely.  "  Do  you  remember  at  school 
the  caricature  you  drew  of  me — all  hands  and  feet  and 
face,  and  absolutely  no  body?  I've  got  that  yet;  and 
I'm  very  proud  to  have  it  when  I  hear  people  speak 
of  your  artistic  success.  Some  day,  if  I  ever  have  any 
money  again,  I'll  ask  you  to  paint  a  better  portrait  of 
me,  if  you  have  time." 

They  laughed  again  over  this  mild  pleasantry;  a 
cordial  understanding  was  developing  between  them, 
which  meant  much  to  Grandcourt,  for  he  was  a  lonely 

409 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


man  and  his  shyness  had  always  deprived  him  of  what 
he  most  cared  for — what  really  might  have  been  his 
only  resource — the  friendship  of  other  men. 

For  some  time,  while  they  were  talking,  Duane  had 
noticed  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  another  man  at  a 
neighbouring  table — a  thin,  pop-eyed,  hollow-chested, 
unhealthy  young  fellow,  who,  at  intervals,  stared  in 
solently  at  Grandcourt,  and  once  or  twice  contrived  to 
knock  over  his  glass  of  whiskey  while  reaching  unstead 
ily  for  a  fresh  cigarette. 

The  man  was  Stuyvesant  Quest,  drunk  as  usual, 
and  evidently  in  an  unpleasant  mood. 

Grandcourt' s  back  was  toward  him;  Duane  paid 
him  no  particular  attention,  though  at  moments  he  no 
ticed  him  scowling  in  their  direction  and  seemed  to  hear 
him  fussing  and  muttering  over  his  whiskey  and  soda, 
which,  with  cigarettes,  comprised  his  luncheon. 

"  I  wish  I  were  going  up  to  Roya-Neh  with  you," 
repeated  Grandcourt.  "  I  had  a  bully  time  up  there — 
everybody  was  unusually  nice  to  me,  and  I  had  a  fine 
time." 

"  I  know  they'll  ask  you  up  whenever  you  can  get 
away,"  said  Duane.  "  Geraldine  Seagrave  likes  you 
immensely." 

"  Does  she?  "  exclaimed  Grandcourt,  blushing.  "  I'd 
rather  believe  that  than  almost  anything!  She  was 
very,  very  kind  to  me,  I  can  tell  you;  and  Lord  knows 
why,  because  I've  nothing  intellectual  to  offer  anybody, 
and  I  certainly  am  not  pretty !  " 

Duane,  very  much  amused,  looked  at  his  watch. 

"  When  does  your  train  leave?  "  asked  Grandcourt. 

"  I've  an  hour  yet." 

"  Come  up  to  my  room  and  smoke.  I've  better 
whiskey  than  we  dispense  down  here.  I'm  living  at  the 

410 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

club,  you  know.     They  haven't  yet  got  over  my  fiasco 
at  home  and  I  can't  stand  their  joshing." 

Neither  of  the  men  noticed  that  a  third  man  fol 
lowed  them,  stumbling  up  the  stairs  as  they  took  the 
elevator.  Duane  was  seated  in  an  easy  chair  by  the 
fire,  Grandcourt  in  another,  the  decanter  stood  on  a 
low  table  between  them,  when,  without  formality,  the 
door  opened  and  young  Quest  appeared  on  the  thresh 
old,  white,  self-assertive,  and  aggressively  at  his  ease: 

"  If  you  fellows  don't  mind,  I'll  butt  in  a  moment," 
he  said.  "  How  are  you,  Mallett  ?  How  are  you  ?  " 
giving  Grandcourt  an  impertinent  look;  and  added: 
"  Do  you,  by  any  chance,  expect  your  friend  Dysart 
in  here  this  afternoon?  " 

"  Dysart  is  no  longer  a  member  of  this  club,"  said 
Grandcourt  quietly.  "  I've  told  you  that  a  dozen 
times." 

"  All  right,  I'll  ask  you  two  dozen  times  more,  if 
I  choose,"  retorted  Quest.  "  Why  not  ? "  And  he 
gave  him  an  ugly  stare. 

The  man  was  just  drunk  enough  to  be  quarrelsome. 
Duane  paid  him  no  further  attention;  Grandcourt 
asked  him  very  civilly  if  he  could  do  anything  for  him. 

"  Sure,"  sneered  Quest.  "  You  can  tell  Dysart 
that  if  I  ever  come  across  him  I'll  shoot  him  on  sight ! 
Tell  him  that  and  be  damned !  " 

"  I've  already  told  him  that,"  said  Grandcourt  with 
a  shrug  of  contempt. 

The  weak,  vicious  face  of  the  other  reddened: 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  taking  that  tone  with  me?  " 
he  demanded  loudly.  "  Do  you  think  I  won't  make 
good  ?  "  He  fumbled  around  in  his  clothing  for  a  mo 
ment  and  presently  jerked  a  pistol  free — one  of  the 
automatic  kind  with  rubber  butt  and  blued  barrel. 

411 


"  Unless  you  are  drunker  than  I've  ever  seen  you," 
said  Grandcourt,  "  you'll  put  up  that  pistol  before  I 
do." 

Quest  cursed  him  steadily  for  a  minute :  "  Do  you 
think  I  haven't  got  the  nerve  to  use  it  when  m'  honour's 
'volved  ?  I  tell  you,"  he  said  thickly,  "  when  m'  hon 
our's  'volved " 

"  You  get  drunk,  don't  you? "  observed  Duane. 
"  What  a  pitiful  pup  you  are,  anyway.  Go  to  bed." 

Quest  stood  swaying  slightly  on  his  heels  and  con 
sidering  Duane  with  the  inquiring  solemnity  of  one 
who  is  in  process  of  grasping  and  digesting  an  abstruse 
proposition. 

"  B-bed?  "  he  repeated ;  "  me?  " 

"  Certainly.  A  member  of  this  club  disgracefully 
drunk  in  the  afternoon  will  certainly  hear  from  the 
governing  board  unless  he  keeps  out  of  sight  until  he's 
sane  again." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Quest  with  owlish  condescension  ; 
"  I'm  indebted  to  you  for  calling  'tention  to  m-matters 
which  'volve  honour  of  m'  own  club  and " 

His  voice  rambled  off  into  a  mutter ;  he  sat  or  rather 
fell  into  an  armchair  and  lay  there  twitching  and  mum 
bling  to  himself  and  inspecting  his  automatic  pistol 
with  prominent  watery  eyes. 

"  You'd  better  leave  that  squirt-gun  with  me,"  said 
Grandcourt. 

Quest  refused  with  an  oath,  and,  leaning  forward 
and  hammering  the  padded  chair-arm  with  his  unhealthy 
looking  fist,  he  broke  out  into  a  violent  arraignment  of 
Dysart : 

"  Damn  him ! "  he  yelled,  "  I've  written  him,  I've 
asked  for  an  explanation,  I've  'm-manded  t'  know  why 

his  name's  coupled  with  my  sister's " 

412 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

Duane  leaned  over,  slammed  the  door,  and  turned 
short  on  Quest: 

"  Shut  up ! "  he  said  sharply.  "  Do  you  hear ! 
Shut  up!" 

"  No,  I  won't  shut  up !  I'll  say  what  I  damn 
please " 

"  Haven't  you  any  decency  at  all " 

"  I've  enough  to  fix  Dysart  good  and  plenty,  and 
I'll  do  it !  I'll— let  go  of  me,  Mallett !— let  go,  I  tell 
you  or " 

Duane  jerked  the  pistol  from  his  shaky  fingers,  and 
when  Quest  struggled  to  his  feet  with  a  baffled  howl, 
jammed  him  back  into  the  chair  again  and  handed  the 
pistol  to  Grandcourt,  who  locked  it  in  a  bureau  drawer 
and  pocketed  the  key. 

"  You  belong  in  Matteawan,"  said  the  latter,  fling 
ing  Quest  back  into  the  chair  again  as  the  infuriated 
man  still  struggled  to  rise.  "  You  miserable  drunken 
kid — do  you  think  you  would  be  enhancing  your  sister's 
reputation  by  dragging  her  name  into  a  murder  trial? 
What  are  you,  anyway?  By  God,  if  I  didn't  know  your 
sister  as  a  thoroughbred,  I'd  have  you  posted  here  for  a 
mongrel  and  sent  packing.  The  pound  is  your  proper 
place,  not  a  club-house " ;  which  was  an  astonishing 
speech  for  Delancy  Grandcourt. 

Again,  half  contemptuously,  but  with  something  al 
most  vicious  in  his  violence,  Grandcourt  slammed  young 
Quest  back  into  the  chair  from  which  he  had  attempted 
to  hurl  himself :  "  Keep  quiet,"  he  said ;  "  you're  a  par 
ticularly  vile  little  wretch,  particularly  pitiable;  but 
your  sister  is  a  girl  of  gentle  breeding — a  sweet,  charm 
ing,  sincere  young  girl  whom  everybody  admires  and 
respects.  If  you  are  anything  but  a  gutter-mut,  you'll 
respect  her,  too,  and  the  only  way  you  can  do  it  is  by 

413 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


shutting  that  unsanitary  whiskey-trap  of  yours — and 
keeping  it  shut — and  by  remaining  as  far  away  from 
her  as  you  can,  permanently." 

There  were  one  or  two  more  encounters,  brief  ones ; 
then  Quest  collapsed  and  began  to  cry.  He  was  shak 
ing,  too,  all  over,  apparently  on  the  verge  of  some 
alcoholic  crisis. 

Grandcourt  went  over  to  Duane: 

"  The  man  is  sick,  helplessly  sick  in  mind  and  body. 
If  you'll  telephone  Bailey  at  the  Knickerbocker  Hos 
pital,  he'll  send  an  ambulance  and  I'll  go  up  there  with 
this  fool  boy.  He's  been  like  this  before.  Bailey  knows 
what  to  do.  Telephone  from  the  station ;  I  don't  want 
the  club  servants  to  gossip  any  more  than  is  necessary. 
Do  you  mind  doing  it  ?  " 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Duane.  He  glanced  at  the 
miserable,  snivelling,  twitching  creature  by  the  fire: 
"  Do  you  think  he'll  get  over  this,  or  will  he  buy  an 
other  pistol  the  next  time  he  gets  the  jumps?  " 

Grandcourt  looked  troubled: 

"  I  don't  know  what  this  breed  is  likely  to  do.  He's 
absolutely  no  good.  He's  the  only  person  in  the  world 
that  is  left  of  the  family — except  his  sister.  He's  all 
she  has  had  to  look  out  for  her — a  fine  legacy,  a  fine 
prop  for  her  to  lean  on.  That's  the  sort  of  protection 
she  has  had  all  her  life;  that's  the  example  set  her  in 
her  own  home.  I  don't  know  what  she's  done ;  it's  none 
of  my  business ;  but,  Duane,  I'm  for  her !  " 

"  So  am  I." 

They  stood  together  in  silence  for  a  moment ;  maud 
lin  sniffles  of  self-pity  arose  from  the  corner  by  the  fire, 
alternating  with  more  hysterical  and  more  ominous 
sounds  presaging  some  spasmodic  crisis. 

Grandcourt  said :  "  Bunny  Gray  has  helped  me 
414 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

kennel  this  pup  once  or  twice.  He's  in  the  club;  I 
think  I'll  send  for  him." 

"  You'll  need  help,"  nodded  Duane.  "  I'll  call  up 
the  hospital  on  my  way  to  the  station.  Good-bye,  De- 
lancy." 

They  shook  hands  and  parted. 

At  the  station  Duane  telephoned  to  the  hospital, 
got  Dr.  Bailey,  arranged  for  a  room  in  a  private  ward, 
and  had  barely  time  to  catch  his  train — in  fact,  he  was 
in  such  a  hurry  that  he  passed  by  without  seeing  the 
sister  of  the  very  man  for  whom  he  had  been  making 
such  significant  arrangements. 

She  wore,  as  usual,  her  pretty  chinchilla  furs,  but 
was  so  closely  veiled  that  he  might  not  have  recognised 
her  under  any  circumstances.  She,  however,  forgetting 
that  she  was  veiled,  remained  uncertain  as  to  whether 
his  failure  to  speak  to  her  had  been  intentional  or  other 
wise.  She  had  halted,  expecting  him  to  speak;  now 
she  passed  on,  cheeks  burning,  a  faint  sinking  sensation 
in  her  heart. 

For  she  cared  a  great  deal  about  Duane's  friend 
ship;  and  she  was  very  unhappy,  and  morbid  and  more 
easily  wounded  than  ever,  because  somehow  it  had  come 
to  her  ears  that  rumour  was  busily  hinting  things  un 
thinkable  concerning  her — nothing  definite ;  yet  the  very 
vagueness  of  it  added  to  her  distress  and  horror. 

Around  her  silly  head  trouble  was  accumulating 
very  fast  since  Jack  Dysart  had  come  sauntering  into 
her  youthful  isolation ;  and  in  the  beginning  it  had  been 
what  it  usually  is  to  lonely  hearts — shy  and  grateful 
recognition  of  a  friendship  that  flattered;  fascination, 
an  infatuation,  innocent  enough,  until  the  man  in  the 
combination  awoke  her  to  the  terrors  of  stranger  emo 
tions  involving  her  deeper  and  deeper  until  she  lost  her 
28  415 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


head,  and  he,  for  the  first  time  in  all  his  career,  lost  his 
coolly  selfish  caution. 

How  any  rumours  concerning  herself  and  him  had 
arisen  nobody  could  explain.  There  never  is  any  ex 
planation.  But  they  always  arise. 

In  their  small  but  pretty  house,  terrible  scenes  had 
already  occurred  between  her  and  her  brother — con 
sternation,  anger,  and  passionate  denial  on  her  part; 
on  his,  fury,  threats,  maudlin  paroxysms  of  self-pity, 
and  every  attitude  that  drink  and  utter  demoralisation 
can  distort  into  a  parody  on  what  a  brother  might 
say  and  do. 

To  escape  it  she  had  gone  to  Tuxedo  for  a  week; 
now,  fear  and  foreboding  had  brought  her  back — fear 
intensified  at  the  very  threshold  of  the  city  when  Duane 
seemed  to  look  straight  at  her  and  pass  her  by  without 
recognition.  Men  don't  do  that,  but  she  was  too  inex 
perienced  to  know  it ;  and  she  hastened  on  with  a  heavy 
heart,  found  a  taxi-cab  to  take  her  to  the  only  home  she 
had  ever  known,  descended,  and  rang  for  admittance. 

In  these  miserable  days  she  had  come  to  look  for 
hidden  meaning  even  in  the  expressionless  faces  of  her 
trained  servants,  and  now  she  misconstrued  the  re 
spectful  smile  of  welcome,  brushed  hastily  past  the  maid 
who  admitted  her,  and  ran  upstairs. 

Except  for  the  servants  she  was  alone.  She  rang 
for  information  concerning  her  brother ;  nobody  had 
any.  He  had  not  been  home  in  a  week. 

Her  toilet,  after  the  journey,  took  her  two  hours  or 
more  to  accomplish ;  it  was  dark  at  five  o'clock  and 
snowing  heavily  when  tea  was  served.  She  tasted  it, 
then,  unable  to  subdue  her  restlessness,  went  to  the  tele 
phone;  and  after  a  long  delay,  heard  the  voice  she 
tremblingly  expected: 

416 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

"  Is  that  you,  Jack  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes." 

"  H-how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Not  very  well." 

"  Have  you  heard  anything  new  about  certain  pro 
ceedings?"  she  inquired  tremulously. 

"  Yes ;  she's  begun  them." 

"  On — on  w-what  grounds  ?  " 

"  Not  on  any  grounds  to  scare  you.  It  will  be  a 
Western  matter." 

Her  frightened  sigh  of  relief  turned  her  voice  to  a 
whisper: 

**  Has  Stuyve — has  a  certain  relative — annoyed 
you  since  I've  been  away?  " 

"  Yes,  over  the  telephone,  drunk,  as  usual." 

"  Did  he  make — make  any  more  threats,  Jack  ?  " 

"  The  usual  string.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  said ;  "  he  hasn't  been  home 
in  a  week,  they  tell  me.  Jack,  do  you  think  it  safe 
for  you  to  drop  in  here  for  a  few  moments  before 
dinner  ?  " 

"  Just  as  you  say.  If  he  comes  in,  there  may  be 
trouble.  Which  isn't  a  good  idea,  on  your  account." 

No  woman  in  such  circumstances  is  moved  very 
much  by  an  appeal  to  her  caution. 

"  But  I  want  to  see  you,  Jack,"  she  said  miserably. 

"  That  seems  to  be  the  only  instinct  that  governs 
you,"  he  retorted,  slightly  impatient.  "  Can't  you  ever 
learn  the  elements  of  prudence?  It  seems  to  me  about 
time  that  you  substituted  common  sense  for  immature 
impulse  in  dealing  with  present  problems." 

His  voice  was  cold,  emotionless,  unpleasant.  She 
stood  with  the  receiver  at  her  ears,  flushing  to  the  tips 
of  them  under  his  rebuke.  She  always  did;  she  had 

417 


THE  HANGER  MARK 


known  many,  recently,  but  the  quick  pang  of  pain  was 
never  any  less  keen.  On  the  contrary. 

"  Don't  you  want  to  see  me?  I  have  been  away  for 
ten  days." 

"  Yes,  I  want  to  see  you,  of  course,  but  I'm  not 
anxious  to  spring  a  mine  under  myself — -under  us  both 
by  going  into  your  house  at  this  time." 

"  My  brother  has  not  been  here  in  a  week." 

"  Does  that  accidental  fact  bar  his  possible  appear 
ance  ten  minutes  from  now?  " 

She  wondered,  vaguely,  whether  he  was  afraid  of 
anything  except  possible  damage  to  her  reputation. 
She  had,  lately,  considered  this  question  on  several  oc 
casions.  Being  no  coward,  as  far  as  mere  fear  for  her 
life  was  concerned,  she  found  it  difficult  to  attribute 
such  fear  to  him.  Indeed,  one  of  the  traits  in  her  which 
he  found  inexplicable  and  which  he  disliked  was  a  curi 
ous  fearlessness  of  death — not  uncommon  among  wom 
en  who,  all  their  lives,  have  had  little  to  live  for. 

She  said :  "  If  I  am  not  worth  a  little  risk,  what  is 
my  value  to  you  ?  " 

"  You  talk  like  a  baby,"  he  retorted.  "  Is  an  inter 
view  worth  risking  a  scandal  that  will  spatter  the  whole 
town?" 

"  I  never  count  such  risks,"  she  said  wearily.  "  Do 
as  you  please." 

His  voice  became  angry :  "  Haven't  I  enough  to 
face  already  without  hunting  more  trouble  at  present? 
I  supposed  I  could  look  to  you  for  sympathy  and  aid 
and  common  sense,  and  every  day  you  call  me  up  and 
demand  that  I  shall  drop  everything  and  fling  caution 
to  the  winds,  and  meet  you  somewhere!  Every  day  of 
the  year  you  do  it " 

"  I  have  been  away  ten  days — "  she  faltered,  turn- 
418 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

ing  sick  and  white  at  the  words  he  was  shouting 
through  the  telephone. 

"  Well,  it  was  understood  you'd  stay  for  a  month, 
wasn't  it?  Can't  you  give  me  time  to  turn  around? 
Can't  you  give  me  half  a  chance  ?  Do  you  realise  what 
I'm  facing?  Do  you?" 

"  Yes.  I'm  sorry  I  called  you ;  I  was  so  miserable 
and  lonely " 

"  Well,  try  to  think  of  somebody  besides  yourself. 
You're  not  the  only  miserable  person  in  this  city.  I've 
all  the  misery  I  can  carry  at  present;  and  if  you  wish 
to  help  me,  don't  make  any  demands  on  me  until  I'm 
clear  of  the  tangle  that's  choking  me." 

"  Dear,  I  only  wanted  to  help  you — "  she  stam 
mered,  appalled  at  his  tone  and  words. 

"  All  right,  then,  let  me  alone !  "  he  snarled,  losing 
all  self-command.  "  I've  stood  about  all  of  this  I'm 
going  to,  from  you  and  your  brother  both!  Is  that 
plain?  I  want  to  be  let  alone.  That  is  plainer  still, 
isn't  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said.  Her  face  had  become  deathly 
white;  she  stood  frozen,  motionless,  clutching  the  re 
ceiver  in  her  small  hand. 

His  voice  altered  as  he  spoke  again: 

"  Don't  feel  hurt ;  I  lost  my  temper  and  I  ask  your 
pardon.  But  I'm  half  crazy  with  worry — you've  seen 
to-day's  papers,  I  suppose — so  you  can  understand  a 
man's  losing  his  temper.  Please  forgive  me ;  I'll  try  to 
see  you  when  I  can — when  it's  advisable.  Does  that 
satisfy  you?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said  in  a  dull  voice. 

She  put  away  the  receiver  and,  turning,  dropped 
onto  her  bed.  At  eight  o'clock  the  maid  who  had  come 
to  announce  dinner  found  her  young  mistress  lying 

419 


there,   clenched  hands   over  her   eyes,   lying   slim  and 
rigid  on  her  back  in  the  darkness. 

When  the  electric  lamps  were  lighted  she  rose,  went 
to  the  mirror  and  looked  steadily  at  herself  for  a  long, 
long  time. 

She  tasted  what  was  offered,  seeing  nothing,  hear 
ing  nothing;  later,  in  her  room,  a  servant  came  saying 
that  Mr.  Gray  begged  a  moment's  interview  on  a  mat 
ter  of  importance  connected  with  her  brother. 

It  was  the  only  thing  that  could  have  moved  her  to 
see  him.  She  had  denied  herself  to  him  all  that  winter; 
she  had  been  obliged  to  make  it  plainer  after  a  letter 
from  him — a  nice,  stupid,  boyish  letter,  asking  her  to 
marry  him.  And  her  reply  terminated  the  attempts  of 
Bunbury  Gray  to  secure  a  hearing  from  the  girl  who 
had  apparently  taken  so  sudden  and  so  strange  an  aver 
sion  to  a  man  who  had  been  nice  to  her  all  her  life. 

They  had,  at  one  time,  been  virtually  engaged, 
after  Geraldine  Seagrave  had  cut  him  loose,  and  be 
fore  Dysart  took  the  trouble  to  seriously  notice  her. 
But  Bunny  was  youthful  and  frisky  and  his  tastes  were 
catholic,  and  it  did  not  seem  to  make  much  difference 
that  Dysart  again  stepped  casually  between  them  in  his 
graceful  way.  Yet,  curiously  enough,  each  preserved 
for  the  other  a  shy  sort  of  admiration  which,  until  last 
autumn,  had  made  their  somewhat  infrequent  encoun 
ters  exceedingly  interesting.  Autumn  had  altered  their 
attitudes ;  Bunny  became  serious  in  proportion  to  the 
distance  she  put  between  them — which  is  of  course  the 
usual  incentive  to  masculine  importunity.  They  had 
had  one  or  two  little  scenes  at  Roya-Neh ;  the  girl  even 
hesitated,  unquietly  curious,  perplexed  at  her  own  atti 
tude,  yet  diffidently  interested  in  the  man. 

420 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

A  straw  was  all  that  her  balance  required  to  incline 
it;  Dysart  dropped  it,  casually.  And  there  were  no 
more  pretty  scenes  between  Bunny  Gray  and  his  lady 
love  that  autumn,  only  sulks  from  the  youth,  and,  after 
many  attempts  to  secure  a  hearing,  a  very  direct  and 
honest  letter  that  winter,  which  had  resulted  in  his 
dismissal. 

She  came  down  to  the  drawing-room,  looking  the 
spectre  of  herself,  but  her  stillness  and  self-possession 
kept  Bunny  at  his  distance,  staring,  restless,  amazed — 
all  of  which  very  evident  symptoms  and  emotions  she 
ignored. 

"  I  have  your  message,"  she  said.  "  Has  any 
thing  happened  to  my  brother?  " 

He  began :  "  You  mustn't  be  alarmed,  but  he  is  not 
very  well " 

"  I  am  alarmed.     Where  is  he  ?  " 

"  In  the  Knickerbocker  Hospital." 

"Seriously  ill?" 

"  No.     He  is  in  a  private  ward- 


The — alcoholic  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  flushing  with  the  shame  that  had 
not  burnt  her  white  face. 

"  May  I  go  to  him?  "  she  asked. 

"  No !  "  he  exclaimed,  horrified. 

She  seated  herself,  hands  folded  loosely  on  her 
lap: 

"What  am  I  to  do,  Bunny?" 

"  Nothing.  ...  I  only  came  to  tell  you  so  that 
you'd  know.  To-morrow  if  you  care  to  telephone 
Bailey " 

"  Yes ;  thank  you."  She  closed  her  eyes ;  opened 
them  with  an  effort. 

421 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  If  you'll  let  me,  Sylvia,  I'll  keep  you  informed,"  he 
ventured. 

"  Would  you  ?     I'd  be  very  glad." 

"  Sure  thing !  "  he  said  with  great  animation ;  "  I'll 
go  to  the  hospital  as  many  times  a  day  as  I  am  allowed, 
and  I'll  bring  you  back  a  full  account  of  Stuyve's  prog 
ress  after  every  visit.  .  .  .  May  I,  Sylvie  ?  " 

She  said  nothing.  He  sat  looking  at  her.  He  had 
no  great  amount  of  intellect,  but  he  possessed  an  undue 
proportion  of  heart  under  the  somewhat  striking  waist 
coats  which  at  all  times  characterised  his  attire. 

"  I'm  terribly  sorry  for  you,"  he  said,  his  eyes  very 
wide  and  round. 

She  gazed  into  space,  past  him. 

"  Do  you — would  you  prefer  to  have  me  go  ?  "  he 
stammered. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  Because,"  he  said  miserably,  "  I  take  it  that  you 
haven't  much  use  for  me." 

No  word  from  her. 

"Sylvie?" 

Silence ;  but  she  looked  up  at  him.  "  I  haven't 
changed,"  he  said,  and  the  healthy  colour  turned  him 
pink.  "  I — just — wanted  you  to  know.  I  thought 
perhaps  you  might  like  to  know " 

"Why?"     Her  voice  was  utterly  unlike  her  own. 

"  Why  ?  "  he  repeated,  getting  redder.  "  I  don't 
know — I  only  thought  you  might — it  might — amuse 
you — to  know  that  I  haven't  changed " 

"  As  others  have  ?  Is  that  what  you  mean, 
Bunny?" 

"  No,  no,  I  didn't  think— I  didn't  mean " 

"  Yes,  you  did.  Why  not  say  it  to  me?  You  mean 
that  you,  and  others,  have  heard  rumours.  You  mean 

422 


QUESTIONS   AND   ANSWERS 

that  you,  unlike  others,  are  trying  to  make  me  under 
stand  that  you  are  still  loyal  to  me.     Is  that  it  ?  " 

"  Y-yes.  Good  Lord !  Loyal !  Why,  of  course  I 
am.  Why,  you  didn't  suppose  I'd  be  anything  else,  did 
you?" 

She  opened  her  pallid  lips  to  speak  and  could  not. 

"  Loyal !  "  he  repeated  indignantly.  "  There's  no 
merit  in  that  when  a  man's  been  in  love  with  a  girl  all 
his  life  and  didn't  know  it  until  she'd  got  good  and  tired 
of  him!  You  know  I'm  for  you  every  time,  Sylvia; 
what's  the  game  in  pretending  you  didn't  know  it?  " 

"  No  game.  ...  I  didn't — know  it." 

"  Well,  you  do  now,  don't  you  ?  " 

Her  face  was  colourless  as  marble.  She  said,  look 
ing  at  him :  "  Suppose  the  rumour  is  true  ?  " 

His  face  flamed :  "  You  don't  know  what  you  are 
saying !  "  he  retorted,  horrified. 

"  Suppose  it  is  true?  " 

"  Sylvia — for  Heaven's  sake " 

"  Suppose  it  is  true,"  she  repeated  in  a  dead,  even 
voice ;  "  how  loyal  would  you  remain  to  me  then  ?  " 

"  As  loyal  as  I  am  now !  "  he  answered  angrily,  "  if 
you  insist  on  my  answering  such  a  silly  question " 

"  Is  that  your  answer  ?  " 

"  Certainly.     But " 

"  Are  you  sure?  " 

He  glared  at  her ;  something  struck  coldly  through 
him,  checking  breath  and  pulse,  then  releasing  both  till 
the  heavy  beating  of  his  heart  made  speech  impossible. 

"  I  thought  you  were  not  sure,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  sure !  "  he  broke  out.  "  Good  God,  Sylvia, 
what  are  you  doing  to  me?  " 

"  Destroying  your  faith  in  me." 

"  You  can't !    I  love  you !  " 
423 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  gave  a  little  gasp : 

"  The  rumour  is  true,'*  she  said. 

He  reeled  to  his  feet;  she  sat  looking  up  at  him, 
white,  silent  hands  twisted  on  her  lap. 

"  Now  you  know,"  she  managed  to  say.  "  Why 
don't  you  go?  If  you've  any  self-respect,  you'll  go. 
I've  told  you  what  I  am ;  do  you  want  me  to  speak  more 
plainly  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  he  said  between  his  teeth. 

"  Very  well ;  what  do  you  wish  to  know  ?  " 

"  Only  one  thing.  .  .  .  Do  you — care  for  him  ?  " 

She  sat,  minute  after  minute,  head  bent,  thinking, 
thinking.  He  never  moved  a  muscle;  and  at  last  she 
lifted  her  head. 

"No,"  she  said. 

u  Could  you  care  for — me  ?  " 

She  made  a  gesture  as  though  to  check  him,  half 
rose,  fell  back,  sat  swaying  a  moment,  and  suddenly 
tumbled  over  sideways,  lying  a  white  heap  on  the  rug 
at  his  feet. 


CHAPTER    XX 

IN    SEARCH    OF    HERSELF 

As  his  train  slowed  down  through  the  darkness  and 
stopped  at  the  snow-choked  station,  Duane,  carrying 
suit-case,  satchel,  and  fur  coat,  swung  himself  off  the 
icy  steps  of  the  smoker  and  stood  for  a  moment  on  the 
platform  in  the  yellow  glare  of  the  railway  lanterns, 
looking  about  him. 

Sleigh-bells  sounded  near  —  chiming  through  the 
still,  cold  air;  he  caught  sight  of  two  shadowy  rest 
ive  horses,  a  gaily  plumed  sleigh,  and,  at  the  same  mo 
ment,  the  driver  leaned  sideways  from  her  buffalo- 
robed  seat,  calling  out  to  him  by  name. 

"  Why,  Kathleen !  "  he  exclaimed,  hastening  for 
ward.  "  Did  you  really  drive  down  here  all  alone  to 
meet  me?  " 

She  bent  over  and  saluted  him,  demure,  amused, 
bewitchingly  pretty  in  her  Isabella  bear  furs: 

"  I  really  did,  Duane,  without  even  a  groom,  so  we 
could  talk  about  everything  and  anything  all  the  way 
home.  Give  your  checks  to  the  station  agent — there  he 
is ! — Oh,  Mr.  Whitley,  would  you  mind  sending  up  Mr. 
Mallett's  trunks  to-night?  Thank  you  so  much.  Now, 
Duane,  dear " 

He  tossed  suit-case  and  satchel  into  the  sleigh,  put 
on  his  fur  coat,  and  climbing  up  beside  Kathleen,  bur 
rowed  into  the  robes. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  he  said  seriously,  "  you're  get- 
425 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ting  to  be  a  howling  beauty;  not  just  an  ordinary 
beauty,  but  a  miracle.  Do  you  mind  if  I  kiss  you 
again  ?  " 

"  Not  after  that,"  she  said,  presenting  him  a  fresh- 
curved  cheek  tinted  with  rose,  and  snowy  cold.  Then, 
laughing,  she  swung  the  impatient  horses  to  the  left; 
a  jingling  shower  of  golden  bell-notes  followed;  and 
they  were  off  through  the  starlight,  tearing  northward 
across  the  snow. 

"  Duane !  "  she  said,  pulling  the  young  horses  down 
into  a  swift,  swinging  trot,  "  what  do  you  think ! 
Geraldine  doesn't  know  you're  coming !  " 

"Why  not?"  he  asked,  surprised.  "I  tele 
graphed." 

"  Yes,  but  she's  been  on  the  mountain  with  old 
Miller  for  three  days.  Three  of  your  letters  are  wait 
ing  for  her;  and  then  came  your  telegram,  and  of 
course  Scott  and  I  thought  we  ought  to  open  it." 

"  Of  course.  But  what  on  earth  sent  Geraldine  up 
the  Golden  Dome  in  the  dead  of  winter  ?  " 

Kathleen  shook  her  pretty  head: 

"  She's  turned  into  the  most  uncontrollable  sport 
ing  proposition  you  ever  heard  of!  She's  up  there  at 
Lynx  Peak  camp,  with  her  rifle,  and  old  Miller. 
They're  after  that  big  boar — the  biggest,  horridest 
thing  in  the  whole  forest.  I  saw  him  once.  He's  dis 
gusting.  Scott  objected,  and  so  did  I,  but,  somehow, 
I'm  becoming  reconciled  to  these  break-neck  enterprises 
she  goes  in  for  so  hard — so  terribly  hard,  Duane!  and 
all  I  do  is  to  fuss  a  little  and  make  a  few  tearful  objec 
tions,  and  she  laughs  and  does  what  she  pleases." 

He  said :  "  It  is  better,  is  it  not,  to  let  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Kathleen  quietly,  "  it  is  better. 
That  is  why  I  say  very  little." 

426 


IN   SEARCH    OF   HERSELF 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  but  the  constraint  did 
not  last. 

"  It's  twenty  below  zero,  my  poor  friend,"  observed 
Kathleen.  "  Luckily,  there  is  no  wind  to-night,  but,  all 
the  same,  you  ought  to  keep  in  touch  with  your  nose 
and  ears." 

Duane  investigated  cautiously. 

"  My  features  are  still  sticking  to  my  face,"  he  an 
nounced  ;  "  is  it  really  twenty  below  ?  It  doesn't  seem 
so." 

"  It  is.  Yesterday  the  thermometers  registered 
thirty  below,  but  nobody  here  minds  it  when  the  wind 
doesn't  blow;  and  Geraldine  has  acquired  the  most 
exquisite  colour! — and  she's  so  maddeningly  pretty, 
Duane,  and  actually  plump,  in  that  long  slim  way  of 
hers.  .  .  .  And  there's  another  thing;  she  is  happier 
than  she  has  been  for  a  long,  long  while." 

"  Has  that  fact  any  particular  significance  to 
you  ?  "  he  asked  slowly. 

"  Vital !  .  .  .  Do  you  understand  me,  Duane, 
dear?" 

"  Yes." 

A  moment  later  she  called  in  her  clear  voice :  "  Gate, 
please ! "  A  lantern  flashed ;  a  door  opened  in  the 
lodge;  there  came  a  crunch  of  snow,  a  creak,  and  the 
gates  of  Roya-Neh  swung  wide  in  the  starlight. 

Kathleen  nodded  her  thanks  to  the  keeper,  let  the 
whip  whistle,  and  spent  several  minutes  in  consequence 
recovering  control  of  the  fiery  young  horses  who  were 
racing  like  scared  deer.  The  road  was  wide,  crossed 
here  and  there  by  snowy  "  rides,"  and  bordered  by  the 
splendid  Roya-Neh  forests;  wide  enough  to  admit  a 
white  glow  from  myriads  of  stars.  Never  had  Duane 
seen  so  many  stars  swarming  in  the  heavens;  the  win- 

427 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ter  constellations  were  magnificent,  their  diamond-like 
lustre  silvered  the  world. 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  hear  all  the  news,  all  the 
gossip,  from  three  snow-bound  rustics,  don't  you  ?  "  she 
asked.  "  Well,  then,  let  me  immediately  report  a  most 
overwhelming  tragedy.  Scott  has  just  discovered  that 
several  inconsiderate  entomologists,  who  died  before  he 
was  born,  all  wrote  elaborate  life  histories  of  the  Rose- 
beetle.  Isn't  it  pathetic?  And  he's  worked  so  hard, 
and  he's  been  like  a  father  to  the  horrid  young  grubs, 
feeding  them  nice  juicy  roots,  taking  their  weights  and 
measures,  photographing  them,  counting  their  de 
graded  internal  organs — oh,  it  is  too  vexing !  Because, 
if  you  should  ask  me,  I  may  say  that  I've  been  a  mother 
to  them,  too,  and  it  enrages  me  to  find  out  that  all  those 
wretched,  squirming,  thankless  creatures  have  been 
petted  and  studied  and  have  had  their  legs  counted  and 
their  Bertillon  measurements  taken  years  before  either 
Scott  or  I  came  into  this  old  fraud  of  a  scientific 
world!" 

Duane's  unrestrained  laughter  excited  her  merri 
ment  ;  the  star-lit  woodlands  rang  with  it  and  the  treble 
chiming  of  the  sleigh-bells. 

"What  on  earth  will  he  find  to  do  now?"  asked 
Duane. 

"  He's  going  to  see  it  through,  he  says.  Isn't  it 
fine  of  him?  There  is  just  a  bare  chance  that  he  may 
discover  something  that  those  prying  entomological 
people  overlooked.  Anyway,  we  are  going  to  devote 
next  summer  to  studying  the  parasites  of  the  Rose- 
beetle,  and  try  to  find  out  what  sort  of  creatures  prey 
upon  them.  And  I  want  to  tell  you  something  exciting, 
Duane.  Promise  you  won't  breathe  one  word !  " 

"  Not  a  word !  " 

428 


IN   SEARCH   OF   HERSELF 

"  Well,  then — Scott  was  going  to  tell  you,  any 
way  ! — we  think — but,  of  course,  we  are  not  sure  by  any 
means ! — but  we  venture  to  think  that  we  have  discov 
ered  a  disease  which  kills  Rose-beetles.  We  don't  know 
exactly  what  it  is  yet,  or  how  they  get  it,  but  we  are 
practically  convinced  that  it  is  a  sort  of  fungus." 

She  was  very  serious,  very  earnest,  charming  in 
her  conscientious  imitation  of  that  scientific  caution 
which  abhors  speculation  and  never  dares  assert  any 
thing  except  dry  and  proven  facts. 

"  What  are  you  and  Scott  aiming  at  ?  Are  you 
going  to  try  to  start  an  epidemic  among  the  Rose- 
beetles  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  Oh,  it's  far  too  early  to  even  outline  our 
ideas " 

"  That's  right ;  don't  tell  anything  Scott  wants  to 
keep  quiet  about!  I'll  never  say  a  word,  Kathleen, 
only  if  you'll  take  my  advice,  feed  'em  fungus!  Stuff 
'em  with  it  three  times  a  day — give  it  to  them  boiled, 
fried,  au  gratin,  a  la  Newburg!  That'll  fetch  'em! 
.  .  .  How  is  old  Scott,  anyway  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  well,"  she  said  demurely.  "  He  informs 
us  daily  that  he  weighs  one  hundred  and  ninety  pounds, 
and  stands  six  feet  two  in  his  snow-shoes.  He  always 
mentions  it  when  he  tells  us  that  he  is  going  to  scrub 
your  face  in  a  snow-drift,  and  Geraldine  invariably  in 
sists  that  he  isn't  man  enough.  You  know,  as  a  matter 
of  fact,  we're  all  behaving  like  very  silly  children  up 
here.  Goodness  knows  what  the  servants  think."  Her 
smiling  face  became  graver. 

"  I  am  so  glad  that  matters  are  settled  and  that 
there's  enough  of  your  estate  left  to  keep  your  mother 
and  Naida  in  comfort." 

He  nodded.    "  How  is  Scott  coming  out  ?  " 
429 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Why — he'll  tell  you.  I  don't  believe  he  has  very 
much  left.  Geraldine's  part  is  sufficient  to  run  Roya- 
Neh,  and  the  house  in  town,  if  she  and  Scott  conclude 
to  keep  it.  Old  Mr.  Tappan  has  been  quite  wonderful. 
Why,  Duane,  he's  a  perfect  old  dear ;  and  we  all  are  so 
terribly  contrite  and  so  anxious  to  make  amends  for 
our  horrid  attitude  toward  him  when  he  ruled  us  with 
an  iron  rod." 

"  He's  a  funny  old  duck,"  mused  Duane.  "  That 
son  of  his,  Peter,  has  had  the  '  indiwidool  cultiwated ' 
clean  out  of  him.  He's  only  a  type,  like  Gibson's 
drawings  of  Tag's  son.  Old  Tappan  may  be  as 
honest  as  a  block  of  granite,  but  it's  an  awful  thing 
that  he  should  ever  have  presided  over  the  destinies  of 
children." 

Kathleen  sighed.  "  According  to  his  light  he  was 
faithful.  I  know  that  his  system  was  almost  impossible ; 
I  had  to  live  and  see  my  children  driven  into  themselves 
until  they  were  becoming  too  self-centred  to  care  for 
anything  else — to  realise  that  there  was  anything  else 
or  anybody  else  except  their  wishes  and  themselves  to 
consider.  .  .  .  But,  Duane,  you  see  the  right  quality 
was  latent  in  them.  They  are  coming  out — they  have 
emerged  splendidly.  It  has  altered  their  lives  funda 
mentally,  of  course,  but,  sometimes,  I  wonder  whether, 
in  their  particular  cases,  it  was  not  better  to  cripple 
the  easy,  irresponsible,  and  delightfully  casual  social 
instincts  of  the  House  of  Seagrave.  Educated  accord 
ing  to  my  own  ideas,  they  must  inevitably  have  become, 
in  a  measure,  types  of  the  set  with  which  they  are  iden 
tified.  .  .  .  And  the  only  serious  flaw  in  the  Seagraves 
was — weakness." 

Duane  nodded,  looking  ahead  into  the  star-illumined 
night. 

430 


IN   SEARCH    OF   HERSELF 

"  I  don't  know.  Tappan's  poison  may  have  been  the 
antidote  for  them  in  this  case.  Tell  me,  Kathleen,  has 
Geraldine — suffered  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"Very— much?" 

"  Very  much,  Duane.  Has  she  said  nothing  about 
it  to  you  in  her  letters  ?  " 

"  Nothing  since  she  went  to  town  that  time.  Every 
letter  flies  the  red  cross.  Does  she  still  suffer  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so.  She  seems  so  wonderfully  happy 
— so  vigorous,  in  such  superb  physical  condition.  For 
a  month  I  have  not  seen  that  pitiful,  haunted  expres 
sion  come  into  her  eyes.  And  it  is  not  mere  restlessness 
that  drives  her  into  perpetual  motion  now;  it's  a  new 
delight  in  living  hard  and  with  all  her  might  every 
moment  of  the  day !  .  .  .  She  overdoes  it ;  you  will  turn 
her  energy  into  other  channels.  She's  ready  for  you, 
I  think." 

They  drove  on  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
swung  into  a  broader  avenue  of  pines.  Straight  ahead 
glimmered  the  lights  of  Roya-Neh. 

Duane  said  naively :  "  I  don't  suppose  I  could  get 
up  to  Lynx  Peak  camp  to-night,  could  I  ?  " 

Kathleen  threw  back  her  head,  making  no  effort  to 
control  her  laughter. 

"  It  isn't  necessary,"  she  managed  to  explain ;  "  I 
sent  a  messenger  up  the  mountain  with  a  note  to  her 
saying  that  matters  of  importance  required  her  imme 
diate  return.  She'll  come  down  to-night  by  sleigh  from 
The  Green  Pass  and  Westgate  Centre." 

"  Won't  she  be  furious?  "  he  inquired,  with  a  hypo 
critical  side  glance  at  Kathleen,  who  laughed  derisively 
and  drew  in  the  horses  under  the  porte-cochere.  A 
groom  took  their  heads;  Duane  swung  Kathleen  clear 

431 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


to  the  steps  just  as  Scott  Seagrave,  hearing  sleigh- 
bells,  came  out,  bareheaded,  his  dinner-jacket  wide  open, 
as  though  he  luxuriated  in  the  bitter  air. 

"  Good  work !  "  he  said.  "  How  are  you,  Duane  ? 
Geraldine  arrived  from  The  Green  Pass  about  five 
minutes  ago.  She  thinks  you're  sleighing,  Kathleen, 
and  she's  tremendously  curious  to  know  why  you  want 
her." 

"  She  probably  suspects,"  said  Kathleen,  disap 
pointed. 

"  No,  she  doesn't.  I  began  to  talk  business  imme 
diately,  and  I  know  she  thinks  that  some  of  Mr.  Tap- 
pan's  lawyers  are  coming.  So  they  are — next  month," 
he  added  with  a  grin,  and,  turning  on  Duane: 

"  I  think  I'll  begin  festivities  by  washing  your  face 
in  the  snow." 

"  You're  not  man  enough,"  remarked  the  other ;  and 
the  next  moment  they  had  clinched  and  were  swaying 
and  struggling  all  over  the  terrace,  to  the  scandal  of 
the  servants  peering  from  the  door. 

'*  He's  tired  and  half  frozen !  "  exclaimed  Kathleen ; 
"  what  a  brute  you  are  to  bully  him,  Scott !  " 

"  I'll  include  you  in  a  moment,"  he  panted,  loos 
ing  Duane  and  snatching  a  handful  of  snow.  Where 
upon  she  caught  up  sufficient  snow  to  fill  the  hollow  of 
her  driving  glove,  powdered  his  face  thoroughly  with 
the  feathery  flakes,  picked  up  her  skirt  and  ran  for  it, 
knowing  full  well  she  could  expect  no  mercy. 

Duane  watched  their  reckless  flight  through  the  hall 
and  upstairs,  then  walked  in,  dropped  his  coat,  and  ad 
vanced  across  the  heavy  rugs  toward  the  fireplace. 

On  the  landing  above  he  heard  Geraldine's  laugh 
ter,  then  silence,  then  her  clear,  careless  singing  as 
she  descended  the  stairs: 

432 


IN   SEARCH   OF   HERSELF 

"  Lisetto  quittee  la  plaine, 
Moi  perdi  bonheur  a  moi — 

Yeux  a  moi  semblent  fontaine 
Depuis  moi  pas  mire  toi!  " 

At  the  doorway  she  halted,  seeing  a  man's  figure 
silhouetted  against  the  firelight.  Then  she  moved  for 
ward  inquiringly,  the  ruddy  glow  full  in  her  brown 
eyes ;  and  a  little  shock  passed  straight  through  her. 

"  Duane !  "  she  whispered. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms,  kissed  her,  locked  her 
closer;  her  arms  sought  his  head,  clung,  quivered,  fell 
away ;  and  with  a  nervous  movement  she  twisted  clear 
of  him  and  stood  breathing  fast,  the  clamour  of  her 
heart  almost  suffocating  her.  And  when  again  he 
would  have  drawn  her  to  him  she  eluded  him,  wide-eyed, 
flushed,  lips  parted  in  the  struggle  for  speech  which 
came  at  last,  brokenly: 

"  Dear,  you  must  not  take  me — that  way — yet.  I 
am  not  ready,  Duane.  You  must  give  me  time !  " 

"  Time !     Is  anything — has  anything  gone  wrong?  " 

"  No — oh,  no,  no,  no !  Don't  you  understand  I 
must  take  my  own  time?  I've  won  the  right  to  it;  I'm 
winning  out,  Duane — winning  back  myself.  I  must 
have  my  little  year  of  self-respect.  Oh,  can't  you  un 
derstand  that  you  mustn't  sweep  me  off  my  feet  this 
way? — that  I'm  too  proud  to  go  to  you — have  you  take 
me  while  there  remains  the  faintest  shadow  of  risk  ?  " 

"  But  I  don't  care !    I  want  you !  "  he  cried. 

"  I  love  you  for  it ;  I  want  you,  Duane.  But  be 
fair  to  me;  don't  take  me  until  I  am  as  clean  and 
straight  and  untainted  as  the  girl  I  was — as  I  am  be 
coming — as  I  will  be — surely,  surely — my  darling !  " 

She  caught  his  hands  in  hers  and,  close  to  him, 
433 


looked  into  his  eyes  smilingly,  tearfully,  and  a  little 
proudly.  The  sensitive  under-lip  quivered ;  but  she  held 
her  head  high. 

"  Don't  ask  me  to  give  you  what  is  less  perfect  than 
I  can  make  it.  Don't  let  me  remember  my  gift  and  be 
ashamed,  dear.  There  must  be  no  memory  of  your  mis 
taken  generosity  to  trouble  me  in  the  years  to  come — 
the  long,  splendid  years  with  you.  Let  me  always  re 
member  that  I  gave  you  myself  as  I  really  can  be ;  let 
me  always  know  that  neither  your  love  nor  compassion 
were  needed  to  overlook  any  flaw  in  what  I  give." 

She  bent  her  proud  little  head  and  laid  her  lips  on 
his  hands,  which  she  held  close  between  her  own. 

"  You  can  so  easily  carry  me  by  storm,  Duane ;  and 
in  your  arms  I  might  be  weak  enough  to  waver  and  for 
get  and  promise  to  give  you  now  what  there  is  of  me  if 
you  demanded  it.  Don't  ask  it;  don't  carry  me  out 
of  my  depth.  There  is  more  to  me  than  I  can  give  you 
yet.  Let  me  wait  to  give  it  lest  I  remember  your  un 
fairness  and  my  humiliation  through  the  years  to 
come." 

She  lifted  her  lips  to  his,  offering  them;  he  kissed 
her ;  then,  with  a  little  laugh,  she  abandoned  his  hands 
and  stepped  back,  mocking,  tormenting,  enjoying  his 
discomfiture. 

"  It's  cruel,  isn't  it,  you  poor  lamb !  But  do  you 
know  the  year  is  already  flying  very,  very  fast?  Do 
you  think  I'm  not  counting  the  days  ?  " — and,  suddenly 
yielding — "  if  you  wish — if  you  truly  do  wish  it,  dear, 
I  will  marry  you  on  the  very  day  that  the  year — my 
year — ends.  Come  over  here" — she  seated  herself 
and  made  a  place  for  him — "  and  you  won't  caress  me 
too  much — will  you?  You  wouldn't  make  me  unhappy, 
would  you?  .  .  .  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  that  I  might  let 

434 


IN   SEARCH    OF   HERSELF 

you  touch  me  occasionally.  .  .  .  And  kiss  me — at  rare 
intervals.  .  .  .  But  not — as  we  have.  .  .  .  You  won't, 
will  you?  Then  you  may  sit  here — a  little  nearer  if 
you  think  it  wise — and  I'm  ready  to  listen  to  your  views 
concerning  anything  on  earth,  Duane,  even  including 
love  and  wedlock." 

It  was  very  hard  for  them  to  judge  just  what  they 
might  or  might  not  permit  each  other — how  near  it  was 
perfectly  safe  to  sit,  how  long  they  might,  with  im 
punity,  look  into  each  other's  eyes  in  that  odd  and 
rather  silly  fashion  which  never  seems  to  be  out  of  date. 

What  worried  him  was  the  notion  that  if  she  would 
only  marry  him  at  once  her  safety  was  secured  beyond 
question ;  but  she  explained  very  sweetly  that  her  safety 
was  almost  secured  already;  that,  if  let  alone,  she  was 
at  present  in  absolute  command  of  her  fate,  mistress  of 
her  desires,  in  full  tide  of  self-control.  Now  all  she 
required  was  an  interval  to  develop  character  and  self- 
mastery,  so  that  they  could  meet  on  even  ground  and 
equal  terms  when  the  day  arrived  for  her  to  surrender 
to  him  the  soul  and  body  she  had  regained. 

"  I  suppose  it's  all  right,"  he  said  with  a  sigh,  but 
utterly  unconvinced.  "  You  always  were  fair  about 
things,  and  if  it's  your  idea  of  justice  to  me  and  to 
yourself,  that  settles  it." 

"  You  dear  old  stupid !  "  she  said,  tenderly  amused ; 
"  it  is  the  best  thing  for  our  future.  The  '  sphere  of 
influence '  and  the  *  balance  of  power  '  are  as  delicate 
matters  to  adjust  in  marriage  as  they  are  in  world- 
politics.  You're  going  to  be  too  famous  a  painter  for 
your  wife  to  be  anything  less  than  a  thorough  woman." 

She  drew  a  little  away  from  him,  bent  her  head  and 
clasped  both  hands  around  her  knee. 

"  There  is  another  reason  why  I  should  be  in  auto- 
435 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


cratic  command  over  myself  when  we  marry.  ...  It  is 
difficult  for  me  to  explain  to  you.  .  .  .  Do  you  remem 
ber  that  I  wrote  you  once  that  I  was — afraid  to  marry 
you — not  for  our  own  sakes  ?  " 

Her  young  face  was  grave  and  serious ;  she  bent  her 
gaze  on  her  ringless  fingers. 

"  That,"  she  said,  "  is  the  most  vital  and — sacred 
reason  of  all." 

"  Yes,  dear."  He  did  not  dare  to  touch  her, 
scarcely  dared  look  at  the  pure,  thoughtful  profile 
until  she  lifted  her  head  and  her  fearless  eyes  sought 
his. 

And  they  smiled,  unembarrassed,  unafraid. 

"  Those  people  are  deliberately  leaving  us  here  to 
spoon,"  she  declared  indignantly.  "  I  know  perfectly 
well  that  dinner  was  announced  ages  ago !  "  And,  rais 
ing  her  voice :  "  Scott,  you  silly  ninny !  Where  in  the 
world  are  you  ?  " 

Scott  appeared  with  alacrity  from  the  library,  evi 
dently  detained  there  in  hunger  and  impatience  by 
Kathleen,  who  came  in  a  moment  later,  pretty  eyes  inno 
cently  perplexed. 

"  I  declare,"  she  said,  "  it  is  nine  o'clock  and  din 
ner  is  supposed  to  be  served  at  eight !  "  And  she  seemed 
more  surprised  than  ever  when  old  Howker,  who  evi 
dently  had  been  listening  off  stage,  entered  with  re 
proachful  dignity  and  announced  that  ceremony. 

And  it  was  the  gayest  kind  of  a  ceremony,  for  they 
ate  and  chattered  and  laughed  there  together  as  incon 
sequentially  as  four  children,  and  when  Howker,  with 
pomp  and  circumstance,  brought  in  a  roast  boar's  head 
garnished  with  holly-like  crimson  elder,  they  all  stood 
up  and  cheered  as  though  they  really  liked  the  idea  of 

436 


IN  SEARCH   OF  HERSELF 

eating  it.  However,  there  was,  from  the  same  animal, 
a  saddle  to  follow  the  jowl,  which  everybody  tasted  and 
only  Scott  really  liked;  and,  to  Duanevs  uneasy  sur 
prise,  great  silver  tankards  of  delicious  home-brewed 
ale  were  set  at  every  cover  except  Geraldine's. 

Catching  his  eye  she  shrugged  slightly  and  smiled; 
and  her  engaging  glance  returned  to  him  at  intervals, 
reassuring,  humorously  disdainful;  and  her  serenely 
amused  smile  seemed  to  say: 

"  My  dear  fellow,  please  enjoy  your  ale.  There  is 
not  the  slightest  desire  on  my  part  to  join  you." 

"  That  isn't  a  very  big  wild  boar,"  observed  Scott, 
critically  eyeing  the  saddle. 

"  It's  a  two-year-old,"  admitted  Geraldine.  "  I 
only  shot  him  because  Lacy  said  we  were  out  of  meat." 

"  You  killed  him !  "  exclaimed  Duane. 

She  gave  him  a  condescending  glance;  and  Scott 
laughed. 

"  She  and  Miller  save  this  establishment  from  daily 
famine,"  he  said.  "  You  have  no  idea  how  many  deer 
and  boar  it  takes  to  keep  the  game  within  limits  and 
ourselves  and  domestics  decently  fed.  Just  look  at  the 
heads  up  there  on  the  walls."  He  waved  his  arm  around 
the  oak  wainscoting,  where,  at  intervals,  the  great 
furry  heads  of  wild  boar  loomed  in  the  candlelight, 
ears  and  mane  on  end,  eyes  and  white  sabre-like  tusks 
gleaming.  "  Those  are  Geraldine's,"  he  said  with 
brotherly  pride. 

"  I  want  to  shoot  one,  too ! "  said  Duane  firmly. 
"  Do  you  think  I'm  going  to  let  my  affianced  put  it  all 
over  me  like  that  ?  " 

"  Isn't  it  like  a  man  ?  "  said  Geraldine,  appealing  to 
Kathleen.  "  They  simply  can't  endure  it  if  a  girl  ven 
tures  competition " 

437 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You  talk  like  a  suffragette,"  observed  her  brother. 
"  Duane  doesn't  care  how  many  piglings  you  shoot ;  he 
wants  to  go  out  alone  and  get  that  old  grandfather  of 
all  boars,  the  one  which  kept  you  on  the  mountain  for 
the  last  three  days " 

"  My  boar !  "  she  cried  indignantly.  "  I  won't  have 
it !  I  won't  let  him.  Oh,  Duane,  am  I  a  pig  to  want 
to  manage  this  affair  when  I've  been  after  him  all 
winter? — and  he's  the  biggest,  grayest,  wiliest  thing 
you  ever  saw — a  perfectly  enormous  silvery  fellow 
with  two  pairs  of  Japanese  sabre-sheaths  for  tusks 
and  a  mane  like  a  lion,  and  a  double  bend  in  his  nose 
and " 

Shouts  of  laughter  checked  her  flushed  animation. 

"  Of  course  I'm  not  going  to  sneak  out  all  alone  and 
pot  your  old  pig,"  said  Duane ;  "  I'll  find  one  for  my 
self  on  some  other  mountain " 

"  But  I  want  you  to  shoot  with  me !  "  she  exclaimed 
in  dismay.  "  I  wanted  you  to  see  me  stalk  this  boar  and 
mark  him  down,  and  have  you  kill  him.  Oh,  Duane, 
that  was  the  fun.  I've  been  saving  him,  I  really  have. 
Miller  knows  that  I  had  a  shot  once — a  pretty  good 
one — and  wouldn't  take  it.  I  killed  a  four-year  near 
Hurry  on  instead,  just  to  save  that  one " 

"  You're  the  finest  little  sport  in  the  land !  "  said 
Duane,  "  and  we  are  just  tormenting  you.  Of  course 
I'll  go  with  you,  but  I'm  blessed  if  I  pull  trigger  on  that 
gentleman  pig " 

*'  You  must!  I've  saved  him.  Scott,  make  him  say 
he  will !  Kathleen,  this  is  really  too  annoying !  A  girl 
plans  and  plans  and  pictures  to  herself  the  happiness 
and  surprise  she's  going  to  give  a  man,  and  he's  too 
stupid  to  comprehend " 

"  Meaning  me !  "  observed  Duane.  "  But  I  leave  it 
438 


IN   SEARCH    OF   HERSELF 

to  you,  Scott;  a  man  can't  do  such  a  thing  de 
cently " 

"  Oh,  you  silly  people,"  laughed  Kathleen ;  "  you 
may  never  again  see  that  boar.  Denman,  keeper  at 
Northgate  when  Mr.  Atwood  owned  the  estate,  told  me 
that  everybody  had  been  after  that  boar  and  nobody 
ever  got  a  shot  at  him.  Which,"  she  added,  "  does 
not  surprise  me,  as  there  are  some  hundred  square  miles 
of  mountain  and  forest  on  this  estate,  and  Scott  is  lazy 
and  aging  very  fast." 

"  By  the  way,  Sis,  you  say  you  got  a  four-year  near 
The  Green  Pass?" 

She  nodded,  busy  with  her  bon-bon. 

"  Was  it  exciting  ?  "  asked  Duane,  secretly  eaten  up 
with  pride  over  her  achievements  and  sportsmanship. 

"  No,  not  very."  She  went  on  with  her  bon-bon, 
then  glanced  up  at  her  brother,  askance,  like  a  bad  child 
afraid  of  being  reported. 

"  Old  Miller  is  so  fussy,"  she  said — "  the  old, 
spoilt  tyrant !  He  is  really  very  absurd  sometimes." 

"  Oho !  "  said  Scott  suspiciously,  "  so  Miller  is  com 
ing  to  me  again  !  " 

"  He — I'm  afraid  he  is.  Did  you,"  appealing  to 
Kathleen,  "  ever  know  a  more  obstinate,  unreasoning 
old  man " 

"  Geraldine !    What  did  you  do !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"  Yes,"  said  Scott,  annoyed,  "  what  the  deuce  have 
you  been  up  to  now  ?  Miller  is  perfectly  right ;  he's  an 
old  hunter  and  knows  his  business,  and  when  he  comes 
to  me  and  complains  that  you  take  fool  risks,  he's  doing 
his  duty!" 

He  turned  to  Duane: 

"  That  idiot  girl,"  he  said,  nodding  toward  his 
abashed  sister,  "  knocked  over  a  boar  last  month,  ran 
29  439 


THE  DANGER  MARK 


up  to  look  at  his  tusks,  and  was  hurled  into  a  snow 
drift  by  the  beast,  who  was  only  creased.  He  went  for 
Miller,  too,  and  how  he  and  my  sister  ever  escaped  with 
out  a  terrible  slashing  before  Geraldine  shot  the  brute, 
nobody  knows.  .  .  .  There's  his  head  up  there — the 
wicked-looking  one  over  the  fireplace." 

"  That's  not  good  sportsmanship,"  said  Duane 
gravely. 

Geraldine  hung  her  head,  colouring. 

"  I  know  it ;  I  mean  to  keep  cool ;  truly,  I  do.  But 
things  happen  so  quickly " 

"  Why  are  you  afraid  Miller  is  going  to  com 
plain  ?  "  interrupted  her  brother. 

"  Scott — it  wasn't  anything  very  much — that  is,  I 
didn't  think  so.  You'd  have  done  it — you  know  it's  a 
point  of  honour  to  track  down  wounded  game." 

She  turned  to  Duane: 

"  The  Green  Pass  feeding-ground  was  about  a 
thousand  yards  ahead  in  the  alders,  and  I  made  Miller 
wait  while  I  crept  up.  There  was  a  fine  boar  feeding 
about  two  hundred  yards  off,  and  I  fired  and  he 
went  over  like  a  cat  in  a  fit,  and  then  up  and  off,  and 
I  after  him,  and  Miller  after  me,  telling  me  to  look 
out." 

She  laughed  excitedly,  and  made  a  little  gesture. 
"That's  just  why  I  ran — to  look  out! — and  the  trail 
was  deep  and  strong  and  not  much  blood-dust.  I  was 
so  vexed,  so  distressed,  because  it  was  almost  sunset  and 
the  boar  seemed  to  be  going  strongly  and  faster  than  a 
grayhound.  And  suddenly  Miller  shouted  something 
about  *  scrub  hemlock  ' — I  didn't  know  he  meant  for  me 
to  halt ! — So  I — I  " — she  looked  anxiously  at  her 
brother — "  I  jumped  into  the  scrub  and  kicked  him  up 
before  I  knew  it — and  he — he  tore  my  kilts — just  one 

440 


IN   SEARCH   OF   HERSELF 

or  two  tears,  but  it  didn't  wound  me,  Scott,  it  only  just 
made  my  leg  black  and  blue — and,  anyway,  I  got 
him " 

"  Oh,  Lord,"  groaned  her  brother,  "  don't  you 
know  enough  to  reconnoitre  a  wounded  boar  in  the 
scrub?  /  don't  know  why  he  didn't  rip  you.  Do  you 
want  to  be  killed  by  a  pig?  What's  the  use  of  being  all 
cut  and  bitten  to  pieces,  anyway  ?  " 

"No  use,  dear,"  she  admitted  so  meekly  that  Duane 
scarcely  managed  to  retain  his  gravity. 

She  came  over  and  humbly  slipped  her  arm  through 
his  as  they  all  rose  from  the  table. 

"  Don't  think  I'm  a  perfect  idiot,"  she  said  under 
her  breath ;  "  it's  only  inexperience  under  excitement. 
You'll  see  that  I've  learned  a  lot  when  we  go  out  to 
gether.  Miller  will  admit  that  I'm  usually  prudent,  be 
cause,  two  weeks  ago,  I  hit  a  boar  and  he  charged  me, 
and  my  rifle  jammed,  and  I  went  up  a  tree!  Wasn't 
that  prudent?  " 

"  Perfectly,"  he  said  gravely ;  "  only  I'd  feel  safer  if 
you  went  up  a  tree  in  the  first  place  and  remained  there. 
What  a  child  you  are,  anyway !  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  confided  in  him,  "  I  am  a  regu 
lar  baby  sometimes.  I  do  the  silliest  things  in  the 
woods.  Once  I  gave  Miller  the  slip  and  went  off  and 
built  a  doll's  house  out  of  snow  and  made  three  snow 
dolls  and  played  with  them!  Isn't  that  the  silliest 
thing  ?  And  another  time  a  boar  came  out  by  tke  West- 
gate  Oaks,  and  he  was  a  black,  hairy  fellow,  and  so 
funny  with  his  chin-whiskers  all  dotted  with  icicles  that 
I  began  to  say  aloud: 

'  I  swear  by  the  beard 
On  my  chinny-chin-chin — ' 
441 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


And  of  course  he  was  off  before  I  could  pull  trigger  for 
laughing.  Isn't  that  foolish?  " 

"  Adorably,"  he  whispered.  "  You  are  finding  the 
little  girl  in  the  garden,  Geraldine." 

She  looked  up  at  him,  serious,  wistful. 

"  It's  the  boy  who  found  her ;  I  only  helped.  But 
I  want  to  bring  her  home  all  alone." 


CHAPTER    XXI 

THE    GOLDEN    HOURS 

THE  weather  was  unsuitable  for  hunting.  It  snowed 
for  a  week,  thawed  over  night,  then  froze,  then  snowed 
again,  but  the  moon  that  night  promised  a  perfect  day. 

Young  Mallett  supposed  that  he  was  afoot  and 
afield  before  anybody  else  in  house  could  be  stirring, 
but  as  he  pitched  his  sketching  easel  on  the  edges  of  the 
frozen  pasture  brook,  and  opened  his  field-box,  a  far 
hail  from  the  white  hill-top  arrested  him. 

High  poised  on  the  snowy  crest  above  him,  clothed 
in  white  wool  from  collar  to  knee-kilts,  and  her  thick 
clustering  hair  flying,  she  came  flashing  down  the  hill 
on  her  skis,  soared  high  into  the  sunlight,  landed,  and 
shot  downward,  pole  balanced. 

Like  a  silvery  meteor  she  came  flashing  toward  him, 
then  her  hair-raising  speed  slackened,  and  swinging  in 
a  widely  gracious  curve  she  came  gliding  across  the 
glittering  field  of  snow  and  quietly  stopped  in  front  of 
him. 

"  Since  when,  angel,  have  you  acquired  this  miracu 
lous  accomplishment?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Do  I  do  it  well,  Duane?  " 

"  A  swallow  from  paradise  isn't  in  your  class, 
dear,"  he  admitted,  fascinated.  "  Is  it  easy — this  new 
stunt  of  yours  ?  " 

"  Try  it,"  she  said  so  sweetly  that  he  missed  the 
wickedness  in  her  smile. 

443 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


So,  balancing,  one  hand  on  his  shoulder,  she  disen 
gaged  her  moccasins  from  the  toe-clips,  and  he  shoved 
his  felt  timber-jack  boots  into  the  leather  loops,  and 
leaning  on  the  pointed  pole  which  she  handed  him,  gazed 
with  sudden  misgiving  down  the  gentle  acclivity  below. 
She  encouraged  him;  he  listened,  nodding  his  compre 
hension  of  her  instructions,  but  still  gazing  down  the 
hill,  a  trifle  ill  at  ease. 

However,  as  skates  and  snow-shoes  were  no  mys 
tery  to  him,  he  glanced  at  the  long,  narrow  runners 
curved  upward  at  the  extremities,  with  more  assurance, 
and  his  masculine  confidence  in  all  things  masculine  re 
turned.  Then  he  started,  waved  his  hand,  smiling  his 
condescension ;  then  he  realised  that  he  was  going  faster 
than  he  desired  to ;  then  his  legs  began  to  do  disre 
spectful  things  to  him.  The  treachery  of  his  own  pri 
vate  legs  was  most  disheartening,  for  they  wavered  and 
wobbled  deplorably,  now  threatening  to  cross  each 
other,  now  veering  alarmingly  wide  of  his  body.  He 
made  a  feebly  desperate  attempt  to  use  his  trail-pole; 
and  the  next  second  all  that  Geraldine  could  see  of  the 
episode  was  mercifully  enveloped  in  a  spouting  pin- 
wheel  of  snow. 

Like  all  masculine  neophytes,  he  picked  himself  up 
and  came  back,  savagely  confident  in  his  humiliation. 
She  tried  to  guide  his  first  toddling  ski-steps,  but  he 
was  mad  all  through  and  would  have  his  own  way. 
With  a  set  and  mirthless  smile,  again  and  again  he 
gave  himself  to  the  slope  and  the  mercy  of  his  insur 
gent  legs,  and  at  length,  bearing  heavily  on  his  trail- 
pole,  managed  to  reach  the  level  below  without  cap 
sizing. 

She  praised  him  warmly,  rescued  his  wool  gloves 
and  cap  from  snowy  furrows  into  which  their  owner  had 

444 


THE   GOLDEN  HOURS 


angrily  but  helplessly  dived ;  and  then  she  stepped  into 
her  skis  and  ascended  the  hill  beside  him  with  that  long- 
limbed,  graceful,  swinging  stride  which  he  had  ven 
tured  to  believe  might  become  him  also. 

He  said  hopelessly :  "  If  you  expect  me  to  hunt  wild 
boar  with  you  on  skis,  there'll  be  some  wild  and  widely 
distributed  shooting  in  this  county.  How  can  I  hit  a 
boar  while  describing  unwilling  ellipses  in  mid-air  or 
how  can  I  run  away  from  one  while  I'm  sticking  nose 
down  in  a  snow-drift  ?  " 

Too  faint  with  laughter  to  reply,  she  stood  lean 
ing  on  her  trailing-pole  and  looking  over  his  shoulder 
as  he  repitched  his  sketching  easel,  squeezed  the  col 
ours  from  the  leaden  tubes,  and  set  his  palette. 

"  I'm  horribly  hungry,"  he  grumbled ;  "  too  hungry 
to  make  a  decent  sketch.  How  cold  is  it,  anyway  ?  I  be 
lieve  that  this  paint  is  trying  to  freeze  on  my  palette !  " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  paint?  "  she  asked,  her 
rounded  chin  resting  on  his  shoulder. 

"  That  frozen  brook."  He  looked  around  at  her, 
hesitating;  and  she  laughed  and  nodded  her  compre 
hension. 

"  You  want  to  make  a  sketch  of  me,  dear.  Why 
don't  you  ask  me?  Do  you  think  I'd  refuse?  " 

"  It's  so  beastly  cold  to  ask  you  to  stand  still " 

"  Cold !  Why,  it's  much  warmer ;  it's  ten  above 
zero.  I'll  stand  wherever  you  wish.  Where  do  you 
want  me;  here  above  you,  against  the  snow  and  sky?  " 

The  transcendent  loveliness  of  the  picture  she  made 
set  that  excited  thrill  quivering  through  every  vein ; 
but  he  took  a  matter-of-fact  grip  on  his  emotions  be 
cause  good  work  is  done  in  cold  blood,  even  if  it  some 
times  may  be  conceived  in  exaltation. 

"  Don't  move,"  he  said  serenely ;  "  you  are  exactly 
445 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


right  as  you  stand.     Tell  me  the  very  moment  you  feel 
cold.     Promise  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear." 

His  freezing  colours  bothered  him,  and  at  times  he 
used  them  almost  like  pastels.  He  worked  rapidly, 
calmly,  and  with  that  impersonal  precision  that  made 
every  brush  stroke  an  integral  factor  in  the  ensemble. 

At  almost  any  stage  of  the  study  the  accidental 
brilliancy  of  his  progress  might  have  been  terminated 
abruptly,  leaving  a  sketch  rarely  beautiful  in  its  indi 
cated  and  unfinished  promise. 

But  the  pitfalls  of  the  accidental  had  no  allure 
ments  for  him.  She  rested,  changed  position,  stretched 
her  limbs,  took  a  long  circle  or  two,  skimming  the  hill 
side  when  she  needed  the  reaction.  But  always  she  came 
swinging  back  again  to  stand  and  watch  her  lover  with 
a  half-smiling,  half-tender  gaze  that  tried  his  sangfroid 
terribly  when  he  strove  to  catch  it  and  record  it  in  the 
calm  and  scientific  technique  which  might  excite  any 
body  except  the  workman. 

"  Am  I  pretty,  Duane?  " 

"  Annoyingly  divine.  I'm  trying  not  to  think  of  it, 
dear,  until  my  hand  and  heart  may  wobble  with  im 
punity.  Are  you  cold?  " 

"  No.  .  .  .  Do  you  think  you'll  make  a  full-fledged 
picture  from  this  motive?  " 

"  How  did  you  guess  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  I've  a  premonition  that  your  repu 
tation  is  going  to  soar  up  like  a  blazing  star  from  this 
waste  of  snow  around  us.  ...  I  wish — I  wish  that  it 
might  be  from  me,  through  me — my  humble  aid — that 
your  glory  breaks  out " 

"  If  it  ever  does,  it  will  do  it  through  you.  I  told 
you  that  long  ago." 

446 


"  Yes." 

"  I've  known  it  a  long,  long  time,  Geraldine.  With 
out  you  there's  nothing  to  me  except  surface.  You  are 
the  depths  of  me." 

"  And  you  of  me,  Duane."  Sweet  eyes  remote,  she 
stood  looking  into  space ;  at  peace  with  her  soul,  dream 
ing,  content.  And  it  was  then  that  he  caught  and  im 
prisoned  in  colour  the  nameless  beauty  which  was  the 
foundation  for  his  first  famous  picture,  whose  snowy 
splendour  silenced  all  except  those  little  critics  who 
chirp  automatically,  eternally,  on  the  ruddy  hearth 
stone  of  the  gods. 

From  the  distant  hill-top  a  voice  bellowed  at  them 
through  a  megaphone;  and,  looking  aloft,  they  beheld 
Scott  gesticulating. 

"  If  you  two  mental  Jrresponsibles  want  any  break 
fast,"  he  shouted,  "  you'd  better  hustle !  Miller  tele 
phones  that  the  big  boar  fed  below  Cloudy  Mountain  at 
sunrise ! " 

Geraldine  looked  at  her  lover,  cheeks  pink  with  ex 
citement.  He  was  immensely  interested,  too,  and  as 
soon  as  he  could  fold  his  easel,  lock  up  brushes  and 
palette,  protect  his  canvas  with  a  fresh  one  faced  with 
cork  buffers,  they  started  for  the  house,  discussing  the 
chances  for  a  shot  that  afternoon. 

Like  the  most  desirable  and  wary  of  most  species  of 
game,  furry  or  finny,  the  huge,  heavily  tusked  veterans 
of  the  wild-boar  family  often  feed  after  dark,  being  too 
cunning  to  banquet  by  daylight  and  carouse  with  the 
gayer  blades  and  the  big,  fierce  sows  of  the  neighbour 
hood. 

Sometimes  in  the  white  gloom  of  snow-storms  there 
is  a  chance  for  a  shot ;  sometimes  in  a  remoter  fastness  a 
80  447 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


big  boar  may  deem  himself  secure  enough  to  venture 
out  where  there  are  no  witnesses  to  his  solitary  gas 
tronomic  revels  save  an  Arctic  owl  or  two  huddled 
high  in  the  hemlocks. 

And  it  was  in  the  rocky  oak-ridges  of  the  wild 
country  under  Cloudy  Mountain  that  Miller  had 
marked  down  the  monarch  of  all  wild  pigs — the  great, 
shaggy,  silver-tipped  boar,  hock-deep  in  snow,  crunch 
ing  frozen  acorns  and  glaring  off  over  the  gully  where 
mile  after  mile  of  white  valley  and  mountain  ranges 
stretched  away,  clotted  and  streaked  with  pine. 

"  Why  don't  we  all  go  ?  "  asked  Geraldine,  seating 
herself  behind  the  coffee-urn  and  looking  cordially 
around  at  the  others. 

"  Because,  dear,"  said  Kathleen,  "  I  haven't  the 
slightest  desire  to  run  after  a  wild  boar  or  permit  him 
to  amble  after  me;  and  all  that  reconciles  me  to  your 
doing  it  is  that  Duane  is  going  with  you." 

"  I  personally  don't  like  to  kill  things,"  observed 
Scott  briefly.  "  My  sister  is  the  primitive  of  this  out 
fit.  She's  the  slayer,  the  head  hunter,  the  lady-boss  of 
this  kraal." 

"  Is  it  very  horrid  of  me,  Duane? "  she  asked 
anxiously,  "  to  find  excitement  in  this  sort  of  thing? 
Besides,  we  do  need  meat,  and  the  game  must  be  kept 
thinned  down  by  somebody.  And  Scott  won't." 

"  Whatever  you  do  is  all  right,"  said  Duane,  laugh 
ing,  "  even  when  you  jeer  at  my  gymnastics  on  skis. 
Oh,  Lord!  but  I'm  hungry.  Scott,  are  you  going  to 
take  all  those  sausages  and  muffins,  you  bespectacled 
ruffian !  Kathleen,  heave  a  plate  at  him !  " 

Kathleen  was  too  scandalised  to  reply ;  Scott  sur 
rendered  the  desired  muffins,  and  sorted  the  morning 
mail,  which  had  just  been  brought  in. 

448 


THE   GOLDEN   HOURS 


"  Nothing  for  you,  Sis,  except  bills ;  one  letter  for 
Duane,  two  for  Kathleen,  and  the  rest  for  me  " — he 
examined  the  envelopes — "  all  from  brother  correspon 
dents  and  eager  aspirants  for  entomological  honours. 
.  .  .  Here's  your  letter,  Duane ! "  scaling  it  across  the 
table  in  spite  of  Kathleen's  protest. 

They  had  the  grace  to  ask  each  other's  permission 
to  read. 

"  Oh,  listen  to  this !  "  exclaimed  Scott  gleefully : 

"  DEAR  SIR  :  Your  name  has  been  presented  to  the 
Grand  Council  which  has  decided  that  you  are  eligible 
for  membership  in  the  International  Entomological  So 
ciety  of  East  Orange,  N.  J.,  and  you  have,  therefore, 
been  unanimously  elected. 

"  Have  the  kindness  to  inform  me  of  your  accept 
ance  and  inclose  your  check  for  $25,  which  includes 
your  dues  for  five  years  and  a  free  subscription  to  the 
society's  monthly  magazine,  The  Fly-Paper " 

"  Scott,  don't  do  it.  You  get  one  of  those  kind  of 
things  every  day !  "  exclaimed  Geraldine.  "  They  only 
want  your  $25,  anyway." 

"  It's  an  innocent  recreation,"  grinned  Duane. 
"  Why  not  let  Scott  append  to  his  signature — *  M.I.E. 
S.E.O.N.J.' — Member  International  Entomological  So 
ciety,  East  Orange,  New  Jersey.  It  only  costs  $25 
to  do  it " 

"That's  all  right,"  said  Scott,  reddening,  "but 
possibly  they  may  have  read  my  paper  on  the  Prionians 
in  the  last  Yonkers  Magazine  of  Science.  It  wasn't  a 
perfectly  rotten  paper,  was  it,  Kathleen  ?  " 

"  It  was  mighty  clever !  "  she  said  warmly.  "  Don't 
mind  those  two  scoffers,  Scott.  If  you  take  my  advice 

449 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


you  will  join  this  East  Orange  Society.  That  would 
make  six  scientific  societies  he  has  joined  since  Christ 
mas,"  she  continued,  turning  on  Duane  with  severe 
pride ;  adding,  "  and  there's  a  different  coloured 
ribbon  decoration  for  his  buttonhole  from  each 
society." 

But  Duane  and  Geraldine  were  very  disrespectful; 
they  politely  offered  each  other  memberships  in  all  sorts 
of  societies,  including  one  yard  of  ribbon  decoration, 
one  sleigh-bell,  and  five  green  trading  stamps,  until 
Scott  hurled  an  orange  at  Duane,  who  caught  it  and 
blew  a  kiss  at  him  as  recompense. 

Then  they  went  outside,  on  Scott's  curt  invitation, 
and  wrestled  and  scuffled  and  scrubbed  each  other's 
faces  with  snow  like  schoolboys,  until,  declaring  they 
were  hungry  again,  they  came  back  to  the  breakfast- 
room  and  demanded  more  muffins  and  sausages  and 
coffee. 

Kathleen  rang  and,  leaning  over,  handed  Geraldine 
a  brief  letter  from  Rosalie  Dysart: 

"  Do  you  think  Geraldine  would  ask  me  up  for  a 
few  days?"  it  began.  "I'm  horribly  lonesome  and 
unhappy  and  I'm  being  talked  about,  and  I'd  rather  be 
with  you  wholesome  people  than  with  anybody  I  know, 
if  you  don't  mind  my  making  a  refuge  of  your  gener 
osity.  I'm  a  real  victim  of  that  dreadful  sheet  in  town, 
which  we  all  have  a  contempt  for  and  never  subscribe 
to,  and  which  some  of  us  borrow  from  our  maids  or 
read  at  our  modistes — the  sheet  that  some  of  us  are 
genuinely  afraid  of — and  part  of  our  fear  is  that  it 
may  neglect  us!  You  know,  don't  you,  what  really 
vile  things  it  is  saying  about  me?  If  you  don't,  your 
servants  do. 

450 


THE   GOLDEN  HOURS 


"  So  if  you'd  rather  not  have  me,  I  won't  be  of 
fended,  and,  anyway,  you  are  dear  and  decent  people 
and  I  love  you. 

"  ROSALIE  DENE." 

"  How  funny,"  mused  Geraldine.  "  She's  dropped 
Jack  Dysart's  name  already  in  private  correspondence. 
.  .  .  Poor  child  !  "  Looking  up  at  Kathleen,  "  We  must 
ask  her,  mustn't  we,  dear?  " 

There  was  more  of  virginal  severity  in  Kathleen. 
She  did  not  see  why  Rosalie,  under  the  circumstances, 
should  make  a  convenience  of  Geraldine,  but  she  did 
not  say  so;  and,  perhaps,  glancing  at  the  wistful 
young  girl  before  her,  she  understood  this  new  tolera 
tion  for  those  in  dubious  circumstances — comprehended 
the  unusual  gentleness  of  judgment  which  often  softens 
the  verdict  of  those  who  themselves  have  drifted  too 
near  the  danger  mark  ever  to  forget  it  or  to  condemn 
those  still  adrift. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "  ask  her." 

Duane  looked  up  from  the  perusal  of  his  own  letter 
as  Kathleen  and  Scott  strolled  off  toward  the  green 
houses  where  the  latter's  daily  entomological  researches 
continued  under  glass  and  the  stimulous  artificial  heat 
and  Kathleen  Severn. 

"  Geraldine,"  he  said,  "  here's  a  letter  from  Bunny 
Gray.  He  and  Sylvia  Quest  were  married  yesterday 
very  quietly,  and  they  sailed  for  Cape  Town  this  morn- 
ing!" 

"What!" 

"  That's  what  he  writee.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  any 
thing  quicker  ?  " 

"How  funny,"  she  said.     "Bunny  and  Sylvia?     I 

knew  he  was  attentive  to  her  but " 

451 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You  mean  Dysart  ?  "  he  said  carelessly.  "  Oh, 
he's  only  a  confirmed  debutante  chaser ;  a  sort  of  social 
measles.  They  all  recover  rapidly." 

"  I  had  the — social  measles,"  said  Geraldine,  smil 
ing. 

Duane  repressed  a  shiver.  "  It's  inevitable,"  he 
said  gaily.  ..."  That  Bunny  is  a  decent  fellow." 

"  Will  you  show  me  his  letter  ?  "  she  asked,  extend 
ing  her  hand  as  a  matter  of  course. 

"  No,  dear." 

She  looked  up  surprised. 

"  Why  not?    Oh — I  beg  your  pardon,  dear " 

Duane  bent  over,  kissed  her  hand,  and  tossed  the 
letter  into  the  fire.  It  was  her  first  experience  in 
shadows  cast  before,  and  it  came  to  her  with  a  little 
shock  that  no  two  are  ever  one  in  the  prosier  sense  of 
the  theory. 

The  letter  that  Duane  had  read  was  this : 

"  Sylvia  and  I  were  married  quietly  yesterday  and 
she  has  told  me  that  you  will  know  why.  There  is  little 
further  for  me  to  say,  Duane.  My  wife  is  ill.  We're 
going  to  Cape  Town  to  live  for  a  while.  We're  going 
to  be  happy.  I  am  now.  She  will  be. 

"  My  wife  asked  me  to  write  you.  Her  regard  for 
you  is  very  high.  She  wishes  me  to  tell  you  that  I  know 
everything  I  ought  to  have  known  when  we  were  mar 
ried.  You  were  very  kind  to  her.  You're  a  good  deal 
of  a  man,  Duane. 

"  I  want  to  add  something :  her  brother,  Stuyve,  is 
out  of  the  hospital  and  loose  again.  He's  got  all  the 
virtues  of  a  Pomeranian  pup — that  is,  none;  and  he'll 
make  a  rotten  bad  fist  of  it.  I'll  tell  you  now  that,  dur 
ing  the  past  winter,  twice,  when  drunk,  he  shot  at  his 

452 


THE   GOLDEN   HOURS 


sister.    She  did  not  tell  me  this ;  he  did,  when  in  a  snivel 
ling  condition  at  the  hospital. 

"  So  God  knows  what  he  may  do  in  this  matter.  It 
seems  that  the  blackguard  in  question  has  been  warned 
to  steer  clear  of  Stuyvesant.  It's  up  to  them.  I  shall 
be  glad  to  have  Sylvia  at  Cape  Town  for  a  while. 

"  Delancy  Grandcourt  was  witness  for  me,  Rosalie 
for  Sylvia.  Delancy  is  a  brick.  Won't  you  ask  him 
up  to  Roya-Neh?  He's  dying  to  go. 

"  And  this  is  all.  It's  a  queer  life,  isn't  it,  old  fel 
low?  But  a  good  sporting  proposition,  anyway.  It 
suits  me. 

"  Our  love  to  you,  to  the  little  chatelaine  of  Roya- 
Neh,  to  her  brother,  to  Kathleen. 

"  Tell  them  we  are  married  and  off  for  Cape  Town, 
but  tell  them  no  more. 

"B.  GRAY.'* 

*~ 
"  It  isn't  necessary  to  say  burn  this  scrawl." 

Geraldine,  watching  him  in  calm  speculation, 
said: 

"  I  don't  see  why  they  were  married  so  quietly.  No 
body's  in  mourning " 

"Dear?" 

"What,  dear?" 

"  Do  something  for  me." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Then  ask  Delancy  up  here  to  shoot.  Do  you 
mind?" 

"  I'd  love  to.     Can  he  come?  " 

"  I  think  so." 

"  I'll  write  now.  Won't  it  be  jolly,"  she  said  inno 
cently,  "  to  have  him  and  Rosalie  here  together " 

453 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


The  blank  change  on  his  face  checked  her.  "  Isn't 
it  all  right?  "  she  asked,  astonished. 

He  had  made  his  blunder.  There  was  only  one  thing 
for  him  to  say  and  he  said  it  cordially,  mentally 
damning  himself  for  forgetting  that  Rosalie  was  to  be 
invited. 

"  I'll  write  to  them  both  this  morning,"  concluded 
Geraldine.  "  Of  course  poor  Jack  Dysart  is  out  of 
the  question." 

"  A  little,"  he  said  mildly.  And,  furious  with  him 
self,  he  rose  as  she  stood  up,  and  followed  her  into  the 
armory,  her  cool  little  hand  trailing  and  just  touching 
his. 

For  half  an  hour  they  prowled  about,  examining 
Winchesters,  Stevens,  Manlichers — every  make  and 
pattern  of  rifle  and  fowling-piece  was  represented  in 
Scott's  collection. 

"  Odd,  isn't  it,  that  he  never  shoots,"  mused  Duane, 
lifting  out  a  superb  weapon  from  the  rack  behind  the 
glass  doors.  "  This  seems  to  be  one  of  those  murder 
ous,  low  trajectory  pieces  that  fires  a  sort  of  brassy 
shot  which  is  still  rising  when  it's  a  mile  beyond  the 
bunker.  Now,  sweetheart,  if  you've  a  heavy  suit  of 
ancient  armour  which  I  can  crawl  into,  I'll  defy  any 
boar  that  roots  for  mast  on  Cloudy  Mountain." 

It  was  great  fun  for  Geraldine  to  lay  out  their 
equipment  in  two  neat  piles;  a  rifle  apiece  with  cases 
and  bandoliers;  cartridges,  two  hunting-knives  with 
leather  sheaths,  shooting  hoods  and  coats ;  and  timber- 
jack's  boots  for  her  lover,  moccasins  for  her;  a  pair  of 
heavy  sweaters  for  each,  and  woollen  mitts,  fashioned  to 
leave  the  trigger  finger  free. 

Beside  these  she  laid  two  fur-lined  overcoats,  and 
backed  away  in  nai've  admiration  at  her  industry. 

454 


THE   GOLDEN   HOURS 


"  Wonderful,  wonderful,"  he  said.  "  We'll  only  re 
quire  saucepans  and  boiler  lids  to  look  exactly  like 
Tweedle-dum  and  Tweedle-dee  arrayed  for  battle.  I 
say,  Geraldine,  how  am  I  going  to  flee  up  a  tree  with 
all  that  on — and  snow-shoes  to  boot-s,"  he  added  shame 
lessly,  grinning  over  his  degraded  wit. 

She  ignored  it,  advised  him  with  motherly  directness 
concerning  the  proper  underwear  he  must  don,  looked 
at  her  rifle,  examined  his  and,  bidding  him  assume  it, 
led  him  out  to  the  range  in  the  orchard  and  made  him 
target  his  weapon  at  a  hundred  yards. 

There  was  a  terrific  fusillade  for  half  an  hour  or  so ; 
his  work  was  respectable,  and,  satisfied,  she  led  him 
proudly  back  to  the  house  and,  curling  up  on  the 
leather  divan  in  the  library,  invited  him  to  sit  beside 
her. 

"  Do  you  love  me?  "  she  inquired  with  such  imper 
sonal  curiosity  that  he  revenged  himself  fully  then  and 
there ;  and  she  rose  and,  instinctively  repairing  the  dis 
order  of  her  hair,  seated  herself  reproachfully  at  a  dis 
tance. 

"  Can't  a  girl  ask  a  simple  question  ?  "  she  said, 
aggrieved. 

"  Sure.     Ask  it  again,  dearest." 

She  disdained  to  reply,  and  sat  coaxing  the  tendrils 
of  her  dark  hair  to  obey  the  dainty  discipline  of  her 
slender  fingers. 

"  I  thought  you  weren't  going  to,"  she  observed 
irrelevantly.  But  he  seemed  to  know  what  she  meant. 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  even  touch  you  for  a 
year?" 

"  It  isn't  a  year.     Months  of  it  are  over." 

"  But  in  the  months  before  us " 

"  No." 

455 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


She  picked  up  a  book.  When  he  reached  for  a 
magazine  she  looked  over  the  top  of  her  book  at  him, 
then  read  a  little,  glanced  up,  read  a  little  more,  and 
looked  at  him  again. 

"  Duane?  " 

"What?" 

"  This  is  a  fool  of  a  book.  Do  you  want  to  read 
it?" 

"  No,  thanks." 

"  Over  my  shoulder,  I  mean  ?  " 

He  got  up,  seated  himself  on  the  arm  of  her  chair, 
and  looked  at  the  printed  page  over  her  shoulder. 

For  a  full  minute  neither  moved;  then  she  turned 
her  head,  very  slowly,  and,  looking  into  his  eyes,  she 
rested  her  lips  on  his. 

"  My  darling,"  she  said ;  "  my  darling." 

Which  is  one  of  the  countless  variations  of  the  mal 
ady  which  makes  the  world  spin  round  in  one  continual 
and  perpetual  fit. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

CLOUDY    MOUNTAIN 

FIVE  days  running,  Geraldine,  Duane,  and  old  Mil 
ler  watched  for  the  big  gray  boar  among  the  rocky 
oak  ridges  under  Cloudy  Mountain ;  and  though  once 
they  saw  his  huge  tracks,  they  did  not  see  him. 

Every  night,  on  their  return,  Scott  jeered  them  and 
taunted  them  until  a  personal  encounter  with  Duane 
was  absolutely  necessary,  and  they  always  adjourned  to 
the  snowy  field  of  honour  to  wipe  off  the  score  and  each 
other's  faces  with  the  unblemished  snow. 

Rosalie  and  a  Chow-dog  arrived  by  the  middle  of 
the  week ;  Delancy  toward  the  end  of  it,  unencumbered. 
Duane  made  a  mental  note  of  his  own  assininity,  and  let 
it  go  at  that.  He  was  as  glad  to  see  Rosalie  as  any 
body,  and  just  as  glad  to  see  Delancy,  but  he'd  have 
preferred  to  enjoy  the  pleasures  separately,  though  it 
really  didn't  matter,  after  all. 

"  Sooner  or  later,"  he  admitted  to  himself,  "  that 
Delancy  man  is  going  to  marry  her ;  and  it  seems  to  me 
she's  entitled  to  another  chance  in  the  world.  Even 
our  earthly  courts  are  lenient  toward  first  offenders. 
As  for  the  ethics — puzzle  it  out,  you !  "  He  made  a 
gesture  including  the  world  in  general,  lighted  a 
cigarette,  and  went  out  to  the  gun-room  to  join  Ger 
aldine. 

"  Rosalie  and  Delancy  want  to  go  shooting  with 
us,"  he  explained  with  a  shrug. 

457 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Oh,  Duane ! — and  our  solitary  and  very  heavenly 
trips  alone  together !  " 

"  I  know  it.  I  have  just  telephoned  Miller  to  get 
Kemp  from  Westgate  for  them.  Is  that  all  right?  " 

"  Yes  "—she  hesitated—"  I  think  so." 

"Let  Kemp  guide  them,"  he  insisted.  "They'll 
never  hold  out  as  far  as  Cloudy  Mountain.  All  they 
want  is  to  shoot  a  boar,  no  matter  how  big  it  is.  Miller 
says  the  boar  are  feeding  again  near  the  Green  Pass. 
It's  easy  enough  to  send  them  there." 

"  Do  you  think  that  is  perfectly  hospitable  ?  Rosalie 
and  Delancy  may  find  it  rather  stupid  going  off  alone 
together  with  only  Kemp  to  amuse  them.  I  am  fond 
of  him,"  she  added,  "  but  you  know  what  a  woman  like 
Rosalie  is  prone  to  think  of  Delancy." 

He  glanced  at  her  keenly;  she  had,  evidently,  not 
the  slightest  notion  of  the  status  quo. 

"  Oh,  they'll  get  along  together,  all  right,"  he  said 
carelessly.  "  If  they  choose  to  remain  with  us,  of 
course  we  all  can  keep  on  to  Cloudy  Mountain ;  but 
you'll  see  them  accept  Kemp  and  the  Green  Pass  with 
grateful  alacrity  after  two  miles  of  snow-shoeing 
through  the  brush;  and  we'll  have  the  mountain  all  to 
ourselves." 

"  You're  a  shameless  deviser  of  schemes,  aren't  you, 
dear?  "  she  asked,  considering  him  with  that  faint,  in 
timate  smile,  which,  however,  had  always  in  it  some 
thing  of  curiosity.  "  You  know  perfectly  well  we  could 
drive  those  poor  people  the  whole  way  to  Cloudy  Moun 
tain." 

"  Why,  that  is  so ! "  he  exclaimed,  pretending  sur 
prise  ;  "  but,  after  all,  dear,  it's  better  sport  to  beat  up 
the  alders  below  Green  Pass  and  try  to  jump  a  pig 

for  them.    That's  true  hospitality " 

458 


She  laughed,  shaking  her  head.  "  Oh,  Duane, 
Duane !  "  she  murmured,  suffering  him  to  capture  both 
her  hands  and  lay  them  against  his  face  to  cover  the 
glee  that  twitched  it  at  his  own  unholy  perfidy. 

And  so  it  came  about  that,  after  an  early  luncheon, 
a  big  double  sleigh  jingled  up,  received  its  jolly  cargo, 
and  sped  away  again  into  the  white  woodlands,  Kath 
leen  waving  adieu  and  Scott  deriding  them  with  scoffing 
and  snowballs. 

The  drive  was  very  beautiful,  particularly  through 
the  pine  and  hemlock  belt  where  the  great  trees,  clothed 
heavily  with  snow,  bent  branch  and  crest  under  the  pale 
winter  sunshine.  Tall  fir-balsams  pricked  the  sky,  per 
fect  cones  of  white ;  spruces  were  snowy  mounds ;  far 
into  the  forest  twilight  glimmered  the  unsullied  snow. 

As  they  sped  along,  Geraldine  pointed  out  imprints 
of  fox  and  rabbit,  faint  trails  where  a  field-mouse  had 
passed,  the  string  of  henlike  footprints  recording  the 
deliberate  progress  of  some  ruffed  grouse  picking  its 
leisurely  way  across  the  snow;  the  sharp,  indented 
marks  of  squirrels. 

Rosalie  was  enchanted,  Delancy  mildly  so,  but  when 
a  deeper  trail  ploughed  the  snow,  running  parallel  to 
their  progress,  he  regarded  it  with  more  animation. 

"  Pig,"  said  Geraldine  briefly. 

"Wild?"  he  inquired. 

"  Of  course,"  she  smiled ;  "  and  probably  a  good 
big  boar." 

Rosalie  thrilled  and  unconsciously  rested  her  fur- 
gloved  hand  on  Delancy's  sleeve. 

"  You  know,"  she  said,  "  you  must  shoot  a  little 
straighter  than  you  did  at  target  practice  this  morn 
ing.  Because  I  can't  run  very  fast,"  she  added  with 
another  delightful  shudder. 

459 


THE   DANGER  MARK 

Delancy,  at  her  anxious  request,  modestly  assured 
her  that  he  would  "  plug  "  the  first  boar  that  showed 
his  tusks;  and  Geraldine  laughed  and  made  Rosalie 
promise  to  do  the  same. 

"  You're  both  likely  to  have  a  shot,"  she  said  as  the 
sleigh  drew  up  on  a  stone  bridge  and  Miller  and  Kemp 
came  over  and  saluted — big,  raw-boned  men  on  snow- 
shoes,  wearing  no  outer  coats  over  their  thin  woollen 
shirts,  although  every  thermometer  at  Roya-Neh  re 
corded  zero. 

Gun-cases  were  handed  out,  rifles  withdrawn,  and 
the  cases  stowed  away  in  the  sleigh  again.  Fur  coats 
were  rolled  in  pairs,  strapped,  and  slung  behind  the 
broad  shoulders  of  the  guides.  Then  snow-shoes  were 
adjusted — skis  for  Geraldine;  Miller  walked  westward 
and  took  post ;  Kemp's  huge  bulk  closed  the  eastern  ex 
tremity  of  the  line,  and  between  them,  two  and  two  at 
thirty  paces  apart,  stood  the  hunters,  Duane  with  Rosa 
lie,  Geraldine  with  Delancy,  loading  their  magazines. 

Ahead  was  an  open  wood  of  second  growth,  birch, 
beech,  and  maple;  sunlight  lay  in  white  splashes  here 
and  there ;  nothing  except  these  blinding  pools  of  light 
and  the  soft  impression  of  a  fallen  twig  varied  the  im 
maculate  snow  surface  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see. 

"  Forward  and  silence,"  called  out  Geraldine ;  the 
mellow  swish  of  snow-shoes  answered  her,  and  she  glided 
forward  on  her  skis,  instructing  Delancy  under  her 
breath. 

"  The  wind  is  right,"  she  said.  "  They  can't  scent 
us  here,  though  deeper  in  the  mountains  the  wind  cuts 
up  and  you  never  can  be  sure  what  it  may  do. 
There's  just  a  chance  of  jumping  a  pig  here,  but 
there's  a  better  chance  when  we  strike  the  alder  coun 
try.  Try  not  to  shoot  a  sow." 

460 


CLOUDY  MOUNTAIN 


"How  am  I  to  tell?" 

"  Sows  have  no  tusks  that  show.  Be  careful  not  to 
mistake  the  white  patches  of  snow  on  a  sow's  jowl  for 
tusks.  They  get  them  by  rooting  and  it's  not  always 
easy  to  tell." 

Delancy  said  very  honestly :  "  You'll  have  to  con 
trol  me ;  I'm  likely  to  let  drive  at  anything." 

"  You're  more  likely  to  forget  to  shoot  until  the 
pig  is  out  of  sight,"  she  whispered,  laughing.  "  Look ! 
Three  trails !  They  were  made  last  night." 

"Boar?" 

"  Yes,"  she  nodded,  glancing  at  the  deep  cloven  im 
prints.  She  leaned  forward  and  glanced  across  the  line 
at  Miller,  who  caught  her  eye  and  signalled  signifi 
cantly  with  one  hand. 

"  Be  ready,  Delancy,"  she  whispered.  "  There's  a 
boar  somewhere  ahead." 

"  How  can  you  tell?  " 

"  I  can  scent  him.  It's  strong  enough  in  the 
wind,"  she  added,  wrinkling  her  delicate  nose  with  a 
smile. 

Grandcourt  sniffed  and  sniffed,  and  finally  detected 
a  slight  acrid  odour  in  the  light,  clear  breeze.  He 
looked  wisely  around  him;  Geraldine  was  skirting  a 
fallen  tree  on  her  skis;  he  started  on  and  was  just 
rounding  a  clump  of  brush  when  there  came  a  light, 
crashing  noise  directly  ahead  of  him;  a  big,  dark, 
shaggy  creature  went  bounding  and  bucking  across  his 
line  of  vision — a  most  extraordinary  animal,  all  head 
and  shoulders  and  big,  furry  ears. 

The  snapping  crack  of  a  rifle  echoed  by  the  sharp 
racket  of  another  shot  aroused  him  to  action  too  late, 
for  Miller,  knife  drawn,  was  hastening  across  the  snow 
to  a  distant  dark,  motionless  heap ;  and  Geraldine  stood 

461 


jerking  back  the  ejector  of  her  weapon  and  throwing  a 
fresh  cartridge  into  the  breach. 

"  My  goodness !  "  he  faltered,  "  somebody  got  him  ! 
Who  fired,  Geraldine?  " 

She  said :  "  I  waited  as  long  as  I  dared,  Delancy. 
They  go  like  lightning,  you  know.  I'm  terribly  sorry 
you  didn't  fire." 

"  Good  girl !  "  said  Duane  in  a  low  voice  as  she  sped 
by  him  on  her  skis,  rifle  ready  for  emergencies  as  old 
Miller  cautiously  approached  the  shaggy  brown  heap, 
knife  glittering. 

But  there  was  no  emergency ;  Miller's  knife  sank  to 
the  hilt;  Geraldine  uncocked  her  rifle  and  bent  curi 
ously  over  the  dead  boar. 

"  Nice  tusks,  Miss  Seagrave,"  commented  the  old 
man.  "  He's  fat  as  butter,  too.  I  cal'late  he'll  tip  the 
beam  at  a  hundred  and  forty  paound ! " 

The  hunters  clustered  around  with  exclamations 
of  admiration ;  Rosalie,  distractingly  pretty  in  her 
white  wool  kilts  and  cap,  knelt  down  and  touched 
the  fierce,  long-nosed  head  and  stroked  the  furry 
jowl. 

"  Oh,  Delancy ! "  she  wailed,  "  why  didn't  you 
'  plug  '  him  as  you  promised  ?  /  simply  couldn't  shoot ; 
Duane  tried  to  make  me,  but  I  was  so  excited  and  so 
surprised  to  see  the  creature  run  so  fast  that  all  my 
ideas  went  out  of  my  head  and  I  never  thought  of  pull- 
ing  that  wretched  trigger !  " 

"  That,"  said  Delancy,  very  red,  "  is  precisely  what 
happened  to  me."  And,  turning  to  Geraldine,  who 
looked  dreadfully  repentant :  "  I  heard  you  tell  me  to 
shoot,  and  I  merely  gawked  at  the  beast  like  a  rubber 
ing  jay  at  a  ten-cent  show." 

"  Everybody  does  that  at  first,"  said  Duane  cheer- 
462 


CLOUDY  MOUNTAIN 


fully ;  "  I'll  bet  anything  that  you  and  Rosalie  empty 
your  magazines  at  the  next  one." 

"  We  really  must,  Delancy,"  insisted  Rosalie  as  she 
and  Geraldine  turned  away  when  Miller  and  Kemp 
tucked  up  their  sleeves  and  unsheathed  their  knives  in 
preparation  for  unpleasant  but  necessary  details. 

But  they  worked  like  lightning ;  and  in  exactly  seven 
minutes  the  heavy  beast  was  drawn,  washed  out  with 
snow,  roped,  and  hung  to  a  tree  well  out  of  reach  of 
any  four-footed  forest  marauders  that  might  prowl 
that  way  before  night. 

Geraldine,  smiling  her  deprecation  of  their  praise, 
waited  with  the  others  until  the  two  guides  were  ready. 
Then,  in  the  same  order  as  before,  they  moved  forward, 
descended  the  slope,  and  came  into  a  strange  wilder 
ness  of  stark  gray  alders  that  stretched  away  in  every 
direction.  And  threading,  circling,  crossing  each  other 
everywhere  among  the  alders  ran  the  trails  of  deer  and 
wild  boar,  deep  and  fresh  in  the  powdery  snow. 

At  intervals,  as  they  advanced,  hard-wood  ridges 
crossed  the  bewildering  alder  labyrinths.  Twice,  while 
ascending  these  ridges,  Rosalie's  heart  jumped  as  a 
grouse  thundered  up.  Once  three  steel-gray  deer 
started  out  of  the  scrub  and  went  bounding  off,  dis 
playing  enormous  white  flags ;  once  a  young  buck,  hunt 
ing  for  trouble,  winded  it,  whistled,  and  came  leaping 
past  Rosalie  so  close  that  she  shrank  aside  with  a  half- 
stifled  cry  of  apprehension  and  delight. 

Half  a  mile  farther  on  Delancy,  labouring  along  on 
his  snow-shoes,  suddenly  halted,  detaining  Geraldine 
with  a  quick  touch  on  the  shoulder. 

"  There's  something  in  that  clearing,"  he  whis  - 
pered. 

Miller  had  seen  it,  too ;  Duane  motioned  Rosalie  for- 
463 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


ward  to  join  Delancy,  and,  side  by  side,  they  crept 
ahead,  keeping  a  clump  of  scrub  hemlock  between  them 
and  the  edge  of  the  clearing.  It  was  the  Green  Pass 
feed-ground,  a  rocky  strip  of  pasture  climbing  upward 
toward  Lynx  Peak;  and  there,  clean  cut  against  the 
snowy  background,  three  dark  objects  were  moving, 
trotting  nervously  here  and  there,  nosing,  nuzzling, 
tunnelling  the  snow  with  long,  sharp  muzzles. 

Duane  and  Geraldine  silently  unslung  their  field- 
glasses. 

"  They're  boar,"  he  said. 

"  Two-year-olds,"  she  nodded.  "  I  do  hope  they 
will  get  one  each.  Duane,  ought  I  to  have  shot  that 
other  one  ?  " 

"  Of  course,  you  generous  child !  Otherwise  he'd 
have  gone  clear  away.  That  was  a  cracking  shot,  too 
— clean  through  the  backbone  at  the  base  of  the  skull. 
.  .  .  Look  at  Rosalie !  She's  unstrapped  her  snow- 
shoes  and  she  and  Delancy  are  crawling  on  all-fours ! " 

Kemp  had  now  joined  the  stalkers;  he  was  a  wise 
old  hunter,  and  Duane  and  Geraldine,  keeping  very 
still,  watched  the  operations  side  by  side. 

For  half  an  hour  Rosalie  lay  motionless  in  the 
snow  on  the  forest's  edge,  and  Geraldine  was  be 
ginning  to  fret  at  the  prospect  of  her  being  too  be 
numbed  by  the  cold  to  use  her  rifle,  when  Duane 
touched  her  on  the  arm  and  drew  her  attention  to  a 
fourth  boar. 

The  animal  came  on  from  behind  Rosalie  and  to 
Delancy's  right — a  good-sized,  very  black  fellow,  evi 
dently  suspicious  yet  tempted  to  reconnoitre  the  feed 
ing-ground. 

"  Oh,  dear,  oh,  dear !  "  she  whispered ;  "  what  a  shot 
Delancy  has !  Why  doesn't  he  see  him !  What  on 

464 


earth  is  Kemp  about?  Why,  the  boar  is  within  ten  feet 
of  Delancy's  legs  and  doesn't  see  or  wind  him !  " 

"Look!" 

Kemp  had  caught  sight  of  the  fourth  boar.  Ger- 
aldine  and  Duane  saw  his  dilemma,  saw  him  silently  give 
Rosalie  the  signal  to  fire  at  the  nearest  boar  in  the 
open,  then  saw  him  turn  like  a  flash  and  almost  drag 
Delancy  to  his  feet. 

"  Kill  that  pig,  now!  "  he  thundered — "  unless  you 
want  him  hackin'  your  shins !  " 

The  boar  stood  in  his  tracks,  bristling,  furious, 
probably  astounded  to  find  himself  so  close  to  the  only 
thing  in  all  the  forest  that  he  feared  and  would  have 
preferred  to  flee  from. 

Under  such  conditions  boars  lose  their  heads ;  there 
was  a  sudden  clatter  of  tusks,  a  muffled,  indescribable 
sound,  half  squeal,  half  roar;  a  fountain  of  feathery 
snow,  and  two  shots  close  together.  Then  a  third  shot. 

Rosalie,  rather  pale,  threw  another  cartridge  in  as 
Delancy  picked  himself  out  of  a  snow-bank  and  looked 
around  him  in  astonishment. 

"  Well  done,  young  lady ! "  cried  Kemp,  running  a 
fistful  of  snow  over  the  blade  of  his  hunting-knife  and 
nodding  his  admiration.  "  I  guess  it's  just  as  well  you 
disobeyed  orders  and  let  this  funny  pig  have  what  was 
coming  to  him.  Y*  ain't  hurt,  are  ye,  Mr.  Grand- 
court?  " 

"  No ;  he  didn't  hit  me;  I  tripped  on  that  root.  Did 
I  miss  him?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  said  Duane,  kneeling  down  while  Mil 
ler  lifted  the  great  fierce  head.  "  You  hit  him  all  right, 
but  it  didn't  stop  him  ;  it  only  turned  him.  Here's  your 
second  bullet,  too;  and  Rosalie,  yours  did  the  business 
for  him.  Good  for  you!  It's  fine,  isn't  it,  Geraldine?  " 

465 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


Grandcourt,  flushing  heavily,  turned  to  Rosalie  and 
held  out  his  hand.  "  Thank  you,"  he  said ;  "  the  brute 
was  right  on  top  of  me." 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  said  honestly,  "  he'd  missed  you  and 
was  going  straight  on.  I  don't  know  how  on  earth  I 
ever  hit  him,  but  I  was  so  frightened  to  see  you  go  over 
backward  and  I  thought  that  he'd  knocked  you  down, 
and  I  was  perfectly  furious " 

She  gave  a  little  sob  of  excitement,  laughed  un 
steadily,  and  sat  down  on  a  fallen  log,  burying  her  face 
in  her  hands. 

They  knew  enough  to  let  her  alone  and  pretend  not 
to  notice  her.  Geraldine  chattered  away  cheerfully  to 
the  two  men  while  the  keepers  drew  the  game.  Delancy 
tried  to  listen  to  her,  but  his  anxious  eyes  kept  turning 
toward  Rosalie,  and  at  length,  unable  to  endure  it,  he 
went  over  and  sat  down  beside  her,  careless  of  what 
others  might  infer. 

"  How  funny,"  whispered  Geraldine  to  Duane.  "  I 
had  no  idea  that  Delancy  was  so  fond  of  her.  Had 
you?" 

He  started  slightly.  "  I?  Oh,  no,"  he  said  hastily 
— too  hastily.  He  was  a  very  poor  actor. 

Gravely,  head  bent,  she  walked  forward  beside  him 
after  Grandcourt  had  announced  that  he  and  Rosalie 
had  had  enough  and  that  they  wished  Kemp  to  take 
them  and  their  game  to  the  sleigh. 

Once,  looking  back,  she  saw  the  procession  moving 
in  the  opposite  direction  through  the  woods,  Kemp 
leading,  rope  over  his  shoulder,  dragging  the  dead  boar 
across  the  snow;  Grandcourt,  both  rifles  slung  across 
his  back,  big  arm  supporting  Rosalie,  who  walked  as 
though  very  tired,  her  bright  head  drooping,  her  arm 
resting  on  his  shoulder. 

466 


Geraldine  looked  up  at  Duane  thoughtfully,  and  he 
supposed  that  she  was  about  to  speak,  but  her  gaze  be 
came  remote;  she  shifted  her  rifle,  and  walked  on. 

Before  they  came  to  the  wild,  shaggy  country  below 
Cloudy  Mountain  she  said: 

"  I've  been  thinking  it  over,  Duane.  I  can  see  in  it 
nothing  that  can  concern  anybody  except  themselves. 
Can  you?" 

"  Not  a  thing,  dear.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry  I  suggested 
his  coming.  I  knew  about  this,  but  I  clean  forgot  it 
when  I  asked  you  to  invite  him." 

"  I  remember,  now,  your  consternation  when  you 
realised  it,"  she  said,  smiling.  "  After  all,  Duane,  if 
it  is  bound  to  happen,  I  don't  mind  it  happening 
here.  .  .  .  Poor,  lonely  little  Rosalie!  .  .  .  I'm  de 
praved  enough  to  be  glad  for  her — if  it  is  really  to 
be  so." 

"  I'm  glad,  too.  .  .  .  Only  she  ought  to  begin  her 
action,  I  think.  It's  more  prudent  and  better  taste." 

"  You  said  once  that  you  had  a  contempt  for 
divorce." 

"  I  never  entertain  the  same  opinion  of  anything 
two  days  in  succession,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  When 
there  is  any  one  moral  law  that  can  justly  cover  every 
case  which  it  is  framed  to  govern,  I'll  be  glad  to  re 
main  more  constant  in  my  beliefs." 

"  Then  you  do  believe  in  divorce  ?  " 

"  To-day  I  happen  to." 

"  Duane,  is  that  your  attitude  toward  everything  ?  " 

"  Everything  except  you,"  he  said  cheerfully. 
"  That  is  literally  true.  Even  in  my  painting  and  in 
my  liking  for  the  work  of  others,  I  veer  about  like  a 
weather-vane,  never  holding  very  long  to  one  point  of 
view." 

467 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  You're  very  frank  about  it." 

"  Why  not?  " 

"  Isn't  it  a — a  weakness  ?  " 

"  I  don't  think  so,"  he  said  so  simply  that  she  tucked 
her  arm  under  his  with  a  soft,  confidential  laugh. 

"  You  goose ;  do  you  suppose  I  think  there  is  a  weak 
fibre  in  you?  I've  always  adored  the  strength  in  you 
— even  when  it  was  rough  enough  to  bruise  me.  Lis 
ten,  dear;  there's  only  one  thing  you  might  possibly 
weaken  on.  Promise  you  won't." 

"  I  promise." 

"  Then,"  she  said  triumphantly,  "  you'll  take  first 
shot  at  the  big  boar!  Are  you  angry  because  I 
made  you  promise?  If  you  only  knew,  dear,  how 
happy  I  have  been,  saving  the  best  I  had  to  offer,  in 
this  forest,  for  you!  You  will  make  me  happy,  won't 
you?" 

"  Of  course  I  will,  you  little  trump ! "  he  said,  en 
circling  her  waist,  forgetful  of  old  Miller,  plodding 
along  behind  them. 

But  it  was  no  secret  to  old  Miller,  nor  to  any  native 
in  the  country-side  for  a  radius  of  forty  miles.  No 
modern  invention  can  equal  the  wireless  celerity  that 
distributes  information  concerning  other  people's  busi 
ness  throughout  the  rural  wastes  of  this  great  and  gos- 
sipping  nation. 

She  made  him  release  her,  blushing  hotly  as  she  re 
membered  that  Miller  was  behind  them,  and  she  scolded 
her  lover  roundly,  until  later,  in  a  moment  of  thought 
lessness,  she  leaned  close  to  his  shoulder  and  told  him 
she  adored  him  with  every  breath  she  drew,  which  was 
no  sillier  than  his  reply. 

The  long  blue  shadows  on  the  snow  and  the  pink 
bars  of  late  sunlight  had  died  out  together.  It  had 

468 


CLOUDY  MOUNTAIN 


grown  warmer  and  grayer  in  the  forest;  and  after  a 
little  one  or  two  snow-flakes  came  sifting  down  through 
the  trees. 

They  had  not  jumped  the  big  silver  boar,  nor  had 
they  found  a  trace  of  him  among  the  trails  that  crossed 
and  recrossed  the  silent  reaches  of  the  forest.  Light 
was  fading  to  the  colourless,  opaque  gray  which  her 
alded  a  snow-storm  as  they  reached  the  feeding-ground, 
spread  out  their  fur  coats,  and  dropped,  belly  down,  to 
reconnoitre. 

Nothing  moved  among  the  oaks.  They  lay  listen 
ing  minute  after  minute ;  no  significant  sound  broke  the 
silence,  no  dead  branch  cracked  in  the  hemlocks. 

She  lay  close  to  him  for  warmth,  chin  resting  on  his 
shoulder,  her  cheek  against  his.  Their  snow-shoes  were 
stuck  upright  in  a  drift  behind  them ;  beside  these 
squatted  old  Miller,  listening,  peering,  nostrils  working 
in  the  wind  like  an  old  dog's. 

They  waited  and  watched  through  a  fine  veil 
of  snow  descending;  in  the  white  silence  there  was  not 
a  sound  save  the  silken  flutter  of  a  lonely  chickadee, 
friendly,  inquiring,  dropping  from  twig  to  twig  until 
its  tiny  bright  eyes  peered  level  with  Geraldine's. 

Evidently  the  great  boar  was  not  feeding  before 
night.  Duane  turned  his  head  restlessly;  old  Miller, 
too,  had  become  impatient  and  they  saw  him  prowling 
noiselessly  down  among  the  rocks,  scrutinising  snow 
and  thickets,  casting  wise  glances  among  the  trees, 
shaking  his  white  head  as  though  communing  with  him 
self. 

"Well,  little  girl,"  breathed  Duane,  "it  looks 
doubtful,  doesn't  it?" 

She  turned  on  her  side  toward  him,  looking  him  in 
the  eyes : 

469 


"Does  it  matter?" 

"  No,"  he  said,  smiling. 

She  reached  out  her  arms ;  they  settled  close  around 
his  neck,  clung  for  a  second's  passionate  silence,  re 
leased  him  and  covered  her  flushed  face,  all  but  the 
mouth.  Under  them  his  lips  met  hers. 

The  next  instant  she  was  on  her  knees,  pink-cheeked, 
alert,  ears  straining  in  the  wind. 

"  Miller  is  coming  back  very  fast !  "  she  whispered 
to  her  lover.  "  I  believe  he  has  good  news !  " 

Miller  was  coming  fast,  holding  out  in  one  hand 
something  red  and  gray — something  that  dangled  and 
flapped  as  he  strode — something  that  looked  horrible 
and  raw. 

"  Damn  him !  "  said  the  old  man  fiercely,  "  no  won 
der  he  ain't  a-feedin' !  Look  at  this,  Miss  Seagrave. 
There's  more  of  it  below — a  hull  mess  of  it  in  the 
snow." 

"  It's  a  big  strip  of  deer-hide — all  raw  and  bleed 
ing  !  "  faltered  the  girl.  "  What  in  the  world  has  hap 
pened?  " 

"  His  work,"  said  Miller  grimly. 

"  The— the  big  boar?  " 

"  Yes'm.  The  deer  yard  over  there.  He  sneaked 
in  on  'em  last  night  and  this  doe  must  have  got  stuck 
in  a  drift.  And  that  devil  caught  her  and  pulled  her 
down  and  tore  her  into  bits.  Why,  the  woods  is  all  scat 
tered  with  shreds  o'  hide  like  this !  I  wish  to  God  you 
or  Mr.  Mallett  could  get  one  crack  at  him!  I  do,  by 
thunder!  Yes'm!" 

But  it  was  already  too  dusky  among  the  trees  to 
sight  a  rifle.  In  silence  they  strapped  up  the  coats, 
fastened  on  snow-shoes,  and  moved  out  along  the  bare 
spur  of  the  mountain,  where  there  was  still  daylight  in 

470 


CLOUDY   MOUNTAIN 


the  open,  although  the  thickening  snow  made  every 
thing  gray  and  vague. 

Here  and  there  a  spectral  tree  loomed  up  among  the 
rocks ;  a  white  hare's  track,  paralleled  by  the  big  round 
imprints  of  a  lynx,  ran  along  the  unseen  path  they  fol 
lowed  as  Miller  guided  them  toward  Westgate. 

Later,  outlined  in  the  white  waste,  ancient  apple- 
trees  appeared,  gnarled  relics  of  some  long-abandoned 
clearing ;  and,  as  they  passed,  Duane  chanced  to  glance 
across  the  rocks  to  the  left. 

At  first  he  thought  he  saw  something  move,  but  be 
gan  to  make  up  his  mind  that  he  was  deceived. 

Noticing  that  he  had  halted,  Geraldine  came  back, 
and  then  Miller  returned  to  where  he  stood,  squinting 
through  the  falling  flakes  in  the  vague  landscape  be 
yond. 

"  It  moved ;  I  seen  it,"  whispered  Miller  hoarsely. 

"  It's  a  deer,"  motioned  Geraldine ;  "  it's  too  big 
for  anything  else." 

For  five  minutes  in  perfect  silence  they  watched  the 
gray,  flat  forms  of  scrub  and  rock;  and  Duane  was  be 
ginning  to  lose  faith  in  everybody's  eyes  when,  without 
warning,  a  huge,  colourless  shape  detached  itself  from 
the  flat  silhouettes  and  moved  leisurely  out  into  the 
open. 

There  was  no  need  to  speak;  trembling  slightly,  he 
cleared  his  rifle  sight  of  snow,  steadied  his  nerves,  raised 
the  weapon,  and  fired. 

A  horrid  sort  of  scream  answered  the  shot ;  the  boar 
lurched  off  among  the  rocks,  and  after  him  at  top  speed 
ran  Duane  and  Miller,  while  Geraldine,  on  swift  skis, 
sped  eastward  like  the  wind  to  block  retreat  to  the 
mountain.  She  heard  Duane's  rifle  crack  again,  then 
again ;  heard  a  heavy  rush  in  the  thicket  in  front  of 
31  471 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


her,  lifted  her  rifle,  fired,  was  hurled  sideways  on  the 
rocks,  and  knew  no  more  until  she  unclosed  her  bewil 
dered  eyes  in  her  lover's  arms. 

A  sharp  pain  shot  through  her ;  she  gasped,  turned 
very  white,  and  lay  with  wide  eyes  and  parted  lips  star 
ing  at  Duane. 

Suddenly  a  penetrating  aroma  filled  her  lungs ;  with 
all  her  strength  she  pushed  away  the  flask  at  her  lips. 

"No!     No!     Not  that!     I  will  not,  Duane ! " 

"  Dear,"  he  said  unsteadily,  "  you  are  very  badly 
hurt.  We  are  trying  to  carry  you  back.  You  must 
let  me  give  you  this " 

"No,"  she  sobbed,  "I  will  not!  Duane— I—" 
Pain  made  her  faint;  her  grasp  on  his  arm  tightened 
convulsively ;  with  a  supreme  effort  she  struck  the  flask 
out  of  his  hand  and  dropped  back  unconscious. 


CHAPTER    XXIII 

SINE    DIE 

THE  message  ran :  "  My  sister  badly  hurt  in  an  ac 
cident  ;  concussion,  intermittent  consciousness.  We  fear 
spinal  and  internal  injury.  What  train  can  you 
catch?  SCOTT  SEAGRAVE." 

Which  telegram  to  Josiah  Bailey,  M.D.,  started  that 
eminent  general  practitioner  toward  Roya-Neh  in  com 
pany  with  young  Dr.  Goss,  a  surgeon  whose  brilliancy 
and  skill  did  not  interfere  with  his  self-restraint  when 
there  were  two  ways  of  doing  things. 

They  were  to  meet  in  an  hour  at  the  5.07  train; 
but  before  Dr.  Bailey  set  out  for  the  rendezvous,  and 
while  his  man  was  still  packing  his  suit-case,  the  phy 
sician  returned  to  his  office,  where  a  patient  waited, 
head  hanging,  picking  nervously  at  his  fingers,  his 
prominent,  watery  eyes  fixed  on  vacancy. 

The  young  man  neither  looked  up  nor  stirred  when 
the  doctor  entered  and  reseated  himself,  picking  up  a 
pencil  and  pad.  He  thought  a  moment,  squinted 
through  his  glasses,  and  continued  writing  the  pre 
scription  which  the  receipt  of  the  telegram  from  Roya- 
Neh  had  interrupted. 

When  he  had  finished  he  glanced  over  the  slip  of 
paper,  removed  his  gold-rimmed  reading  spectacles, 
folded  them,  balanced  them  thoughtfully  in  the  palm  of 

473 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


his  large  and  healthy  hand,  considering  the  young  fel 
low  before  him  with  grave,  far-sighted  eyes: 

"  Stuyvesant,"  he  said,  "  this  prescription  is  not 
going  to  cure  you.  No  medicine  that  I  can  give  you  is 
going  to  perform  any  such  miracle  unless  you  help 
yourself.  Nothing  on  earth  that  man  has  invented,  or 
is  likely  to  invent,  can  cure  your  disease  unless  by  God's 
grace  the  patient  pitches  in  and  helps  himself.  Is  that 
plain  talk?" 

Quest  nodded  and  reached  shakily  for  the  prescrip 
tion  ;  but  the  doctor  withheld  it. 

"  You  asked  for  plain  talk ;  are  you  listening  to 
what  I'm  saying?  " 

"  Oh,  hell,  yes,"  burst  out  Quest ;  "  I'm  going  to 
pull  myself  together.  Didn't  I  tell  you  I  would?  But 
I've  got  to  get  a  starter  first,  haven't  I?  I've  got  to 
have  something  to  key  me  up  first.  I've  explained  to 
you  that  it's  this  crawling,  squirming  movement  on  the 
backs  of  my  hands  that  I  can't  stand  for.  I  want  it 
stopped;  I'll  take  anything  you  dope  out;  I'll  do  any 
turn  you  call  for " 

"  Very  well.  I've  told  you  to  go  to  Mulqueen's. 
Go  now! " 

"  All  right,  doctor.  Only  they're  too  damn  rough 
with  a  man.  All  right;  I'll  go.  I  did  go  last  win 
ter,  and  look  where  I  am  now ! "  he  snarled  suddenly. 
"  Have  I  got  to  get  up  against  all  that  business 
again  ?  " 

"  You  came  out  in  perfectly  good  shape.  It  was 
up  to  you,"  said  the  doctor,  coldly  using  the  ver 
nacular. 

"  How  was  it  up  to  me?  You  all  say  that!  How 
was  it?.  I  understood  that  if  I  cut  it  out  and  went  up 
there  and  let  that  iron-fisted  Irishman  slam  me  around, 

474 


SINE   DIE 


that  I'd  come  out  all  right.  And  the  first  little  baby- 
drink  I  hit  began  the  whole  thing  again!" 

"Why  did  you  take  it?     You  didn't  have  to." 

"  I  wanted  it,"  retorted  Quest  angrily. 

"  Not  badly  enough  to  make  self-control  impossible. 
That's  what  you  went  up  there  for,  to  get  back  self- 
control.  You  got  it  but  didn't  use  it.  Do  you  think 
there  is  any  sort  of  magic  serum  Mulqueen  or  I  or 
anybody  under  Heaven  can  pump  into  you  that  will 
render  you  immune  from  the  consequences  of  making 
an  alcohol  sewer  of  yourself?  " 

"I  certainly  supposed  I  could  come  out  and  drink 
like  a  gentleman,"  said  the  young  man  sullenly. 

"Drink  like  a — what?  A  gentleman?  What's 
that?  What's  drinking  like  a  gentleman?  I  don't 
know  what  it  is.  You  either  drink  alcohol  or  you  don't ; 
you  either  swill  it  or  you  don't.  Anybody  can  do 
either.  I'm  not  aware  that  either  is  peculiar  to  a  gentle 
man.  But  I  know  that  both  are  peculiar  to  fools." 

Quest  muttered,  picking  his  fingers,  and  cast  an 
ugly  side  look  at  the  physician. 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  just  said,"  snapped  Dr. 
Bailey,  "  but  I'll  tell  you  this :  alcohol  is  poison  and  it 
has  not — and  never  had — in  any  guise  whatever,  the 
slightest  compensating  value  for  internal  use.  It  isn't 
a  food ;  it's  a  poison ;  it  isn't  a  beneficial  stimulant ;  it's 
a  poison ;  it  isn't  an  aid  to  digestion ;  it's  a  poison ;  it 
isn't  a  life  saver;  it's  a  life  taker.  It's  a  parasite, 
forger,  thief,  pander,  liar,  brutalizer,  murderer ! 

"  Those  are  the  plain  facts.  There  isn't,  and  there 
never  has  been,  one  word  to  say  for  it  or  any  excuse, 
except  morbid  predisposition  or  self-inculcated  inclina 
tion,  to  offer  for  swallowing  it.  Now  go  to  your 
brewers,  your  wine  merchants,  your  champagne  touts, 

475 


your  fool  undergraduates,  your  clubmen,  your  guzzling 
viveurs — and  they'll  all  tell  you  the  contrary.  So  will 
some  physicians.  And  you  can  take  your  choice.  Any 
ass  can.  That  is  all,  my  boy." 

The  young  man  glowered  sulkily  at  the  prescrip 
tion. 

"  Do  I  understand  that  this  will  stop  the  jumps?  " 

"  If  you  really  believe  that,  you  have  never  heard 
me  say  so,"  snapped  Dr.  Bailey. 

"  Well,  what  the  devil  will  it  do?  " 

"  The  directions  are  there.  You  have  my  memoran 
dum  of  the  regime  you  are  to  follow.  It  will  quiet  you 
till  you  get  to  Mulqueen's.  Those  two  bits  of  paper, 
however,  are  useless  unless  you  help  yourself.  If  you 
want  to  become  convalescent  you  can — even  yet.  It 
won't  be  easy ;  it  will  hurt ;  but  you  can  do  it,  as  I  say, 
even  yet.  But  it  is  you  who  must  do  it,  not  I  or  that 
bit  of  paper  or  Mulqueen! 

"  Just  now  you  happen  to  want  to  get  well  because 
the  effect  of  alcohol  poison  disturbs  you.  Tilings  crawl, 
as  you  say,  on  the  back  of  your  hand.  Naturally,  you 
don't  care  for  such  phenomena. 

"  Well,  I've  given  you  the  key  to  mental  and  physi 
cal  regeneration.  Yours  is  not  an  inherited  appetite; 
yours  is  not  one  of  those  almost  foredoomed  and  piti 
able  cases.  It's  a  stupid  case ;  and  a  case  of  gross  self- 
indulgence  in  stupidity  that  began  in  idleness.  And 
that,  my  son,  is  the  truth." 

"Is  that  so?  "  sneered  Quest,  rising  and  pocketing 
the  prescription. 

"  Yes,  it  is  so.  I've  known  your  family  for  forty 
years,  Stuyvesant.  I  knew  your  parents ;  I  exonerate 
them  absolutely.  Sheer  laziness  and  wilful  depravity 
is  what  has  brought  you  here  to  me  on  this  errand.  You 

476 


SINE   DIE 


deliberately  acquired  a  taste  for  intoxicants;  you 
haven't  one  excuse,  one  mitigating  plea  to  offer  for 
what  you've  done  to  yourself. 

"  You  stood  high  in  school  and  in  college ;  you  were 
Phi  Beta  Kappa,  a  convincing  debater,  a  plausible 
speaker,  an  excellent  writer  of  good  English — by  in 
stinct  a  good  newspaper  man.  Also  you  were  a  man 
adapted  by  nature  to  live  regularly  and  beyond  the 
coarser  temptations.  But  you  were  lazy !  " 

Dr.  Bailey  struck  his  desk  in  emphasis. 

"  The  germ  of  your  self-indulgence  lay  in  gross  self 
ishness.  You  did  what  pleased  you ;  and  it  suited  you 
to  do  nothing.  I'm  telling  you  how  you've  betrayed 
yourself — how  far  you'll  have  to  climb  to  win  back. 
Some  men  need  a  jab  with  a  knife  to  start  their  pride; 
some  require  a  friend's  strong  helping  arm  around 
them.  You  need  the  jab.  I'm  trying  to  administer  it 
without  anaesthetics,  by  telling  you  what  some  men 
think  of  you — that  it  is  your  monstrous  selfishness  that 
has  distorted  your  normal  common  sense  and  landed 
you  where  you  are. 

"  Selfishness  alone  has  resulted  in  a  most  cruel  and 
unnatural  neglect  of  your  sister — your  only  living  rela 
tive — in  a  deliberate  relapse  into  slothful  and  vicious 
habits ;  in  neglect  of  a  most  promising  career  which  was 
already  yours ;  in  a  contemptible  willingness  to  live  on 
your  sister's  income  after  gambling  away  your  own 
fortune. 

"  I  know  you ;  I  carried  you  through  teething  and 
measles,  my  son :  and  I've  carried  you  through  the  hor 
rors  of  alcoholic  delirium.  And  I  say  to  you  now  that, 
with  the  mental  degeneration  already  apparent,  and 
your  naturally  quick  temper,  if  you  break  down  a  few 
more  cells  in  that  martyred  brain  of  yours,  you'll  end 

477 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


in  an  asylum — possibly  one  reserved  for  the  criminal 
insane." 

A  dull  colour  stained  the  pasty  whiteness  of  Quest's 
face.  For  several  minutes  he  stood  there,  his  fingers 
working  and  picking  at  each  other,  his  pale,  prominent 
eyes  glaring. 

"  That's  a  big  indictment,  doctor,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Thank  God  you  think  it  so,"  returned  the  doctor. 
"  If  you  will  stand  by  your  better  self  for  one  week — 
for  only  one  week — after  leaving  Mulqueen's,  I'll  stand 
by  you  for  life,  my  boy.  Come!  You  were  a  good 
sport  once.  And  that  little  sister  of  yours  is  worth  it. 
Come,  Stuyvesant ;  is  it  a  bargain  ?  " 

He  stepped  forward  and  held  out  his  large,  firm, 
reassuring  hand.  The  young  fellow  took  it  limply. 

"  Done  with  you,  doctor,"  he  said  without  convic 
tion  ;  "  it's  hell  for  mine,  I  suppose,  if  I  don't  make  my 
face  behave.  You're  right ;  I'm  the  goat ;  and  if  I  don't 
quit  butting  I'll  sure  end  by  slapping  some  sissy  citi 
zen  with  an  axe." 

He  gave  the  doctor's  hand  a  perfunctory  shake  with 
his  thin,  damp  fingers ;  dropped  it,  turned  to  go,  halted, 
retraced  his  steps. 

"  Will  it  give  me  the  willies  if  I  kiss  a  cocktail 
good-bye  before  I  start  for  that  fresh  guy,  Mul- 
queen  ?  " 

"  Start  now,  I  tell  you!    Haven't  I  your  word?  " 

"  Yes — but  on  the  way  to  buy  transportation  can't 
I  offer  myself  one  last " 

"  Can't  you  be  a  good  sport,  Stuyve?  " 

The  youth  hesitated,  scowled. 

"  Oh,  very  well,"  he  said  carelessly,  turned  and  went 
out. 

As  he  walked  along  in  the  slush  he  said  to  himself: 
478 


SINE  DIE 


"  I  guess  it's  up  the  river  for  mine.  .  .  .  By  God,  it's 
a  shame,  for  I'm  feeling  pretty  good,  too,  and  that's 
no  idle  quip !  .  .  .  Old  Squills  handed  out  a  line  of  talk 
all  right-o!  .  .  .  He  landed  it,  too.  ...  I  ought  to 
find  something  to  do." 

As  he  walked,  a  faint  glow  stimulated  his  enervated 
intelligence;  ideas,  projects  long  abandoned,  desires 
forgotten,  even  a  far  echo  from  the  old  ambition  stir 
ring  in  its  slumber,  quickened  his  slow  pulses.  The 
ghost  of  what  he  might  have  been,  nay,  what  he  could 
have  made  himself,  rose  wavering  in  his  path.  Other 
ghosts,  long  laid,  floated  beside  him,  accompanying  him 
— the  ghosts  of  dead  opportunities,  dead  ideals,  lofty 
inspirations  long,  long  strangled. 

"  A  job,"  he  muttered;  "  that's  the  wholesome  dope 
for  Willy.  There  isn't  a  newspaper  or  magazine  in  town 
where  I  can't  get  next  if  I  speak  easy.  I  can  deliver 
the  goods,  too ;  it's  like  wiping  swipes  off  a  bar " 

In  his  abstraction  he  had  walked  into  the  Holland 
House,  and  he  suddenly  became  conscious  that  he  was 
confronting  a  familiarly  respectful  bartender. 

"  Oh,  hell,"  he  said,  greatly  disconcerted,  "  I  want 
some  French  vichy,  Gus ! "  He  made  a  wry  face,  and 
added :  "  Put  a  dash  of  tabasco  in  it,  and  salt  it." 

A  thick-lipped,  ruddy-cheeked  young  fellow,  cele 
brated  for  his  knowledge  of  horses,  also  notorious  for 
other  and  less  desirable  characteristics,  stood  leaning 
against  the  bar,  watching  him. 

They  nodded  civilly  to  one  another.  Quest  swal 
lowed  his  peppered  vichy,  pulled  a  long  face  and  said: 

"  We're  a  pair  of  'em,  all  right." 

"Pair  of  what?"  inquired  the  thick-lipped  young 
man,  face  becoming  rosier  and  looking  more  than  ever 
like  somebody's  groom. 

32  479 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Pair  of  bum  whips.  We've  laid  on  the  lash  too 
hard.  I'm  going  to  stable  my  five  nags — my  five 
wits ! " — he  explained  with  a  sneer  as  the  other  re 
garded  him  with  all  the  bovine  intelligence  of  one  of  his 
own  stable-boys — "  because  they're  foundered ;  and 
that's  the  why,  young  four-in-hand ! " 

He  left  the  bar,  adding  as  he  passed : 

"  I'm  a  rotting  citizen,  but  you  " — he  laughed  inso 
lently — "  you  have  become  phosphorescent !  " 

The  street  outside  was  all  fog  and  melting  snow; 
the  cold  vichy  he  had  gulped  made  him  internally  un 
comfortable. 

"  A  gay  day  to  go  to  Mulqueen's,"  he  muttered 
sourly,  gazing  about  for  a  taxicab. 

There  was  none  for  hire  at  that  moment ;  he  walked 
on  for  a  while,  feeling  the  freezing  slush  penetrate  his 
boot-soles;  and  by  degrees  a  sullen  temper  rose  within 
him,  revolting — not  at  what  he  had  done  to  himself — 
but  at  the  consequences  which  were  becoming  more  un 
pleasant  every  moment. 

As  he  trudged  along,  slipping,  sliding,  his  over 
coat  turned  up  around  his  pasty  face,  his  cheeks  wet 
with  the  icy  fog,  he  continued  swearing  to  himself,  at 
himself,  at  the  slush,  the  cold  vichy  in  his  belly,  the 
appetite  already  awakened  which  must  be  denied. 

Denied?  .  .  .  Was  he  never  to  have  one  more  de 
cent  drink?  Was  this  to  be  the  absolute  and  final  end? 
Certainly.  Yet  his  imagination  could  not  really  com 
prehend,  compass,  picture  to  himself  life  made  a  nui 
sance  by  self-denial — life  in  any  other  guise  except  as 
a  background  for  inertia  and  indulgence. 

He  swore  again,  profanely  asking  something  occult 
why  he  should  be  singled  out  to  be  made  miserable  on 
a  day  like  this?  Why,  among  all  the  men  he  knew,  he 

.480 


SINE   DIE 


must  go  skulking  about,  lapping  up  cold  mineral  water 
and  cocking  one  ear  to  the  sounds  of  human  revelry 
within  the  Tavern. 

As  for  his  work — yes,  he  ought  to  do  it.  ...  In 
terest  in  it  was  already  colder;  the  flare-up  was  dying 
down;  habitual  apathy  chilled  it  to  its  embers.  Indif 
ference,  ill-temper,  self-pity,  resentment,  these  were  the 
steps  he  was  slowly  taking  backward.  He  took  them,  in 
their  natural  sequence,  one  by  one. 

Old  Squills  meant  well,  no  doubt,  but  he  had  been 
damned  impertinent.  .  .  .  And  why  had  Old  Squills 
dragged  in  his  sister,  Sylvia?  .  .  .  He  had  paid  as 
much  attention  to  her  as  any  brother  does  to  any  sis 
ter.  .  .  .  And  how  had  she  repaid  him? 

Head  lowered  doggedly  against  the  sleet  which 
was  now  falling  thickly,  he  shouldered  his  way  for 
ward,  brooding  on  his  "  honour,"  on  his  sister,  on 
Dysart. 

He  had  not  been  home  in  weeks;  he  did  not  know 
of  his  sister's  departure  with  Bunny  Gray.  She  had 
left  a  letter  at  home  for  him,  because  she  knew  no  other 
addresses  except  his  clubs ;  and  inquiry  over  the  tele 
phone  elicited  the  information  that  he  had  not  been  to 
any  of  them. 

But  he  was  going  to  one  of  them  now.  He  needed 
something  to  kill  that  vichy ;  he'd  have  one  more  hon 
est  drink  in  spite  of  all  the  Old  Squills  and  Mulqueens 
in  North  America! 

At  the  Cataract  Club  there  were  three  fashion- 
haunting  young  men  drinking  hot  Scotches:  Dumont, 
his  empurpled  skin  distended  with  whiskey  and  late  sup 
pers,  and  all  his  former  brilliancy  and  wit  cankered  and 
rotten  with  it,  and  his  slim  figure  and  clean-cut  face 
fattened  and  flabby  with  it;  Myron  Kelter,  thin,  ele- 

481 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


gant,  exaggerated,  talking  eternally  about  women  and 
his  successes  with  the  frailer  ones — Myron  Kelter,  son  of 
a  gentleman,  eking  out  his  meagre  income  by  fetching, 
carrying,  pandering  to  the  rich,  who  were  too  fastidious 
to  do  what  they  paid  him  for  doing  in  their  behalf; 
and  the  third,  Forbes  Winton,  literary  dilettante,  large 
in  every  feature  and  in  waistcoat  and  in  gesture — large, 
hard,  smooth — very  smooth,  and  worth  too  many  mil 
lions  to  be  contradicted  when  misstating  facts  to  suit 
the  colour  of  his  too  luxuriant  imagination. 

These  greeted  Quest  in  their  several  and  fashion 
ably  wearied  manners,  inviting  his  soul  to  loaf. 

Later  he  had  a  slight  dispute  with  Winton,  who  sur 
veyed  him  coldly,  and  insolently  repeated  his  former 
misstatement  of  a  notorious  fact. 

"  What  rot ! "  said  Quest ;  "  I  leave  it  to  you,  Kel 
ter  ;  am  I  right  or  not  ?  " 

Kelter  began  a  soft  and  soothing  discourse  which 
led  nowhere  at  first  but  ended  finally  in  a  re-order  for 
four  hot  Scotches. 

Then  Dumont's  witty  French  blood — or  the  muddied 
dregs  which  were  left  of  it — began  to  be  perversely 
amusing  at  Quest's  expense.  Epigrams  slightly  frayed, 
a  jest  or  two  a  trifle  stale,  humorous  inversions  of  well- 
known  maxims,  a  biting  retort,  the  originality  of  which 
was  not  entirely  free  from  suspicion,  were  his  contribu 
tions  to  the  festivities. 

Later  Kelter's  nicely  modulated  voice  and  almost 
affectionate  manner  restrained  Quest  from  hurling  his 
glass  at  the  inflamed  countenance  of  Mr.  Dumont. 
But  it  did  not  prevent  him  from  leaving  the  room 
in  a  vicious  temper,  and,  ultimately,  the  Cataract 
Club. 

The  early  winter  night  had  turned  cold  and  clear; 
182 


SINE   DIE 


sidewalks  glittered,  sheeted  with  ice.  He  inhaled  a  deep 
breath  and  expelled  a  reeking  one,  hailed  a  cab,  and 
drove  to  the  railroad  station. 

Here  he  bought  his  tickets,  choosing  a  midnight 
train;  for  the  journey  to  Mulqueen's  was  not  a  very 
long  one;  he  could  sleep  till  seven  in  the  car;  and,  be 
sides,  he  had  his  luggage  to  collect  from  the  hotel  he 
had  been  casually  inhabiting.  Also  he  had  not  yet 
dined. 

Bodily  he  felt  better,  now  that  the  vichy  had  been 
"  killed " ;  mentally  his  temper  became  more  vicious 
than  ever  as  he  thought  of  Dumont's  blunted  wit  at  his 
expense — a  wit  with  edge  enough  left  to  make  a  ragged, 
nasty  wound. 

"  He'll  get  what's  coming  to  him  some  day,"  snarled 
Quest,  returning  to  his  cab ;  and  he  bade  the  driver  take 
him  to  the  Amphitheatre,  a  restaurant  resort,  wonder 
ful  in  terra-cotta  rocks,  papier-mache  grottos,  and  Cro- 
ton  waterfalls — haunted  of  certain  semi-distinguished 
pushers  of  polite  professions,  among  whom  he  had  been 
known  for  years. 

The  place  was  one  vast  eruption  of  tiny  electric 
lights,  and  the  lights  of  "  the  profession,"  and  the 
demi-monde.  Virtue  and  its  antithesis  disguised  alike 
in  silk  attire  and  pearl  collars,  rubbed  elbows  uncon 
cernedly  among  the  papier-mache  grottos ;  the  cascades 
foamed  with  municipal  water,  waiters  sweated  and  scur 
ried,  lights  winked  and  glimmered,  and  the  music  and 
electric  fans  annoyed  nobody. 

In  its  usual  grotto  Quest  found  the  usual  group, 
was  welcomed  automatically,  sat  down  at  one  of  the 
tables,  and  gave  his  order. 

Artists,  newspaper  men,  critics,  and  writers  predom 
inated.  There  was  also  a  "  journalist  "  doing  "  bril- 

483 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


liant "  space  work  on  the  Sun.  He  had  been  doing  it 
nearly  a  month  and  he  was  only  twenty-one.  It  was  his 
first  job.  Ambition  tickled  his  ribs;  Fame  leaned  fa 
miliarly  over  his  shoulder;  Destiny  made  eyes  at  him. 
His  name  was  Bunn. 

There  was  also  a  smooth-shaven,  tired-eyed,  little 
man  who  had  written  a  volume  on  Welsh-rarebits  and 
now  drew  cartoons.  His  function  was  to  torment 
Bunn ;  and  Bunn  never  knew  it. 

A  critic  rose  from  the  busy  company  and  departed, 
to  add  lustre  to  his  paper  and  a  nail  in  the  coffin  of  the 
only  really  clever  play  in  town. 

"  Kismet,"  observed  little  Dill,  who  did  the  daily 
cartoon  for  the  Post ,  "  no  critic  would  be  a  critic  if 
he  could  be  a  fifth-rate  anybody  else — or,"  he  added, 
looking  at  Bunn,  "  even  a  journalist." 

"  Is  that  supposed  to  be  funny  ?  "  asked  Bunn  com 
placently.  "  /  intend  to  do  art  criticism  for  the 
Herald." 

"  What's  the  objection  to  my  getting  a  job  on  it, 
too  ?  "  inquired  Quest,  setting  his  empty  glass  aside  and 
signalling  the  waiter  for  a  re-order.  He  expected  sur 
prise  and  congratulation. 

Somebody  said,  "  You  take  a  job!"  so  impudently 
that  Quest  reddened  and  turned,  showing  his  narrow, 
defective  teeth. 

"  It's  my  choice  that  I  haven't  taken  one,"  he 
snarled.  "  Did  you  think  otherwise  ?  " 

"  Don't  get  huffy,  Stuyve,"  said  a  large,  placid, 
fat  novelist,  whose  financial  success  with  mediocre  fic 
tion  had  made  him  no  warmer  favourite  among  his 
brothers. 

A  row  of  artists  glanced  up  and  coldly  continued 
their  salad,  their  Vandyck  beards  all  wagging  in  unison. 

484 


SINE   DIE 


"  I  want  you  to  understand,"  said  Quest,  leaning 
both  elbows  offensively  on  Dill's  table,  "  that  the  job  I 
ask  for  I  expect  to  get." 

**  You  might  have  expected  that  once,"  said  the 
cool  young  man  who  had  spoken  before. 

"  And  I  do  now ! "  retorted  Quest,  raising  his  voice. 
"  Why  not?  " 

Somebody  said :  "  You  can  furnish  good  copy,  all 
right.  Quest;  you  do  it  every  day  that  you're  not 
working." 

Quest,  astonished  and  taken  aback  at  such  a  uni 
versal  revelation  of  the  contempt  in  which  he  seemed  to 
be  held,  found  no  reply  ready — nothing  at  hand  except 
another  glass  of  whiskey  and  soda. 

Minute  after  minute  he  sat  there  among  them,  sul 
len,  silent,  wincing,  nursing  his  chagrin  in  deepening 
wrath  and  bitterness ;  and  his  clouding  mind  perceived 
in  the  rebuke  nothing  that  he  had  ever  done  to  de 
serve  it. 

Who  the  devil  were  these  rag-tags  and  bob-tails  of 
the  world  who  presumed  to  snub  him — these  restau 
rant-haunting  outsiders,  among  whom  he  condescended 
to  sit,  feeling  always  the  subtle  flattery  they  ought  to 
accord  him  by  virtue  of  a  social  position  hopeless  of 
attainment  by  any  of  them? 

Who  were  they  to  turn  on  him  like  this  when  he  had 
every  reason  to  suppose  they  were  not  only  aware  of  the 
great  talent  he  had  carelessly  neglected  to  cultivate 
through  all  these  years,  but  must,  in  the  secret  recesses 
of  their  grubby  souls,  reluctantly  admire  his  disdain  of 
the  only  distinctions  they  scrambled  for  and  could  ever 
hope  for? 

His  black  looks  seemed  to  disturb  nobody ;  Bunn, 
self-centred,  cropped  his  salad  complacently;  the  Van- 

485 


THE  DANGER   MARK 


dyck  beards  wagged;  another  critic  or  two  left,  stern 
slaves  to  duty  and  paid  ads. 

The  lights  bothered  him ;  tremors  crawled  over  and 
over  his  skin;  within  him  a  dull  rage  was  burning — a 
rage  directed  at  no  one  thing,  but  which  could  at  any 
moment  be  focussed. 

Men  rose  and  left  the  table  singly,  by  twos,  in 
groups.  He  sat,  glowering,  head  partly  averted, 
scowlingly  aware  of  their  going,  aware  of  their 
human  interest  in  one  another  but  not  in  him,  aware 
at  last  that  he  counted  for  nothing  whatever  among 
them. 

Some  spoke  to  him  as  they  passed  out ;  he  made  them 
no  answer.  And  at  last  he  was  alone. 

Reaching  for  his  empty  glass,  he  miscalculated  the 
distance  between  it  and  his  quivering  fingers ;  it  fell  and 
broke  to  pieces.  When  the  waiter  came  he  cursed 
him,  flung  a  bill  at  him,  got  up,  demanded  his  coat  and 
hat,  swore  at  the  pallid,  little,  button-covered  page  who 
brought  it,  and  lurched  out  into  the  street. 

A  cab  stood  there;  he  entered  it,  fell  heavily  into  a 
corner  of  the  seat,  bade  the  driver,  "  Keep  going,  damn 
you ! "  and  sat  swaying,  muttering,  brooding  on  the 
wrongs  that  the  world  had  done  him. 

Wrongs!  Yes,  by  God!  Every  hand  was  against 
him,  every  tongue  slandered  him.  Who  was  he  that  he 
should  endure  it  any  longer  in  patience!  Had  he  not 
been  patient?  Had  he  not  submitted  to  the  insults  of 
a  fool  of  a  doctor? — had  he  not  stayed  his  hand  from 
punishing  Dumont's  red  and  distended  face? — had  he 
not  silently  accepted  the  insolent  retorts  of  these  Grub 
Street  literati  who  turned  on  him  and  flouted  the  talent 
that  lay  dormant  in  him — dead,  perhaps — but  dead  or 

486 


SINE   DIE 


dormant,  it  still  matched  theirs!     And  they  knew  it, 
damn  them! 

Had  he  not  stood  enough  from  the  rotten  world? — 
from  his  own  sister,  who  had  flung  his  honour  into  his 
face  with  impunity! — from  Dysart,  whose  maddening 
and  continual  ignoring  of  his  letters  demanding  an  ex 
planation 

There  seemed  to  come  a  sudden  flash  in  his  brain ; 
he  leaned  from  the  window  and  shouted  an  address  to 
the  cabman.  His  hat  had  fallen  beside  him,  but  he  did 
not  notice  its  absence  on  his  fevered  head. 

"  I'll  begin  with  him!  "  he  repeated  with  a  thick 
laugh ;  "  I'll  settle  with  him  first.  Now  we're  going  to 
see!  Now  we'll  find  out  about  several  matters — or  I'll 
break  his  neck  off ! — or  I'll  twist  it  off — wring  it  off !  " 

And  he  beat  on  his  knees  with  his  fists,  railing,  rag 
ing,  talking  incoherently,  laughing  sometimes,  some 
times  listening,  as  though,  suddenly,  near  him,  a  voice 
was  mocking  him. 

He  had  a  pocket  full  of  bills,  crushed  up ;  some  he 
gave  to  the  cabman,  some  he  dropped  as  he  stuffed  the 
others  into  his  pockets,  stumbled  toward  a  bronze-and- 
glass  grille,  and  rang.  The  cabman  brought  him  his 
hat,  put  it  on  him,  gathered  up  the  dropped  money,  and 
drove  off  with  his  tongue  in  his  cheek. 

Quest  rang  again;  the  door  opened;  he  gave  his 
card  to  the  servant,  and  stealthily  followed  him  up 
stairs  over  the  velvet  carpet. 

Dysart,  in  a  velvet  dressing-gown  knotted  in  close 
about  his  waist,  looked  over  the  servant's  shoulders  and 
saw  Quest  standing  there  in  the  hall,  leering  at  him. 

For  a  moment  nobody  spoke;  Dysart  took  the  of 
fered  card  mechanically,  glanced  at  it,  looked  at  Quest, 
and  nodded  dismissal  to  the  servant. 

487 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


When  he  and  the  other  man  stood  alone,  he  said  in 
a  low,  uncertain  voice: 

"  Get  out  of  here !  " 

But  Quest  pushed  past  him  into  the  lighted  room 
beyond,  and  Dysart  followed,  very  pale. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  I've  asked  you  questions,  too,"  retorted  Quest. 
"  Answer  mine  first." 

"  Will  you  get  out  of  here  ?  " 

"  Not  until  I  take  mv  answer  with  me." 

"  You're  drunk !  " 

"  I  know  it.    Look  out !  " 

Dysart  moistened  his  bloodless  lips. 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  ?  "  And,  as  Quest 
shouted  a  question  at  him :  "  Keep  quiet !  Speak  lower, 
I  tell  you.  My  father  is  in  the  next  room." 

"What  in  hell  do  I  care  for  your  father?  Answer 
me  or  I'll  choke  it  out  of  you!  Answer  me  now,  you 
dancing  blackguard !  I've  got  you  ;  I  want  my  answer, 
and  you've  got  to  give  it  to  me ! " 

"  If  you  don't  lower  your  voice,"  said  Dysart  be 
tween  his  teeth,  "  I'll  throw  you  out  of  that  window !  " 

"  Lower  my  voice  ?  Why  ?  Because  the  old  fox 
might  hear  the  young  one  yap !  What  do  I  care  for 
you  or  your  doddering  family " 

He  went  down  with  a  sharp  crash;  Dysart  struck 
him  again  as  he  rose ;  then,  beside  himself,  rained  blows 
on  him,  drove  him  from  corner  to  corner,  out  of  the 
room,  into  the  hall,  striking  him  in  the  face  till  the 
young  fellow  reeled  and  fell  against  the  bath-room  door. 
It  gave ;  he  stumbled  into  darkness ;  and  after  him 
sprang  Dysart,  teeth  set — sprang  into  the  darkness 
which  split  before  him  with  a  roar  into  a  million  splin 
ters  of  fire. 

488 


SINE   DIE 


He  stood  for  a  second  swaying,  reaching  out  to 
grasp  at  nothing  in  a  patient,  persistent,  meaningless 
way ;  then  he  fell  backward,  striking  a  terrified  servant, 
who  shrank  away  and  screamed  as  the  light  fell  on  her 
apron  and  cuffs  all  streaked  with  blood. 

She  screamed  again  as  a  young  man's  white  and 
battered  face  appeared  in  the  dark  doorway  before  her. 

"  Is  he  hurt  ?  "  he  asked.  His  dilated  eyes  were 
fixed  upon  the  thing  on  the  floor.  "  What  are  you 
howling  for?  Is  he — dead?  "  whispered  Quest.  Sud 
denly  terror  overwhelmed  him. 

"  Get  out  of  my  way ! "  he  yelled,  hurling  the 
shrieking  maid  aside,  striking  the  frightened  butler  who 
tried  to  seize  him  on  the  stairs.  There  was  another  man 
servant  at  the  door,  who  stood  his  ground  swinging  a 
bronze  statuette.  Quest  darted  into  the  drawing-room, 
ran  through  the  music-room  and  dining-room  beyond, 
and  slammed  the  door  of  the  butler's  pantry. 

He  stood  there  panting,  glaring,  his  shoulder  set 
against  the  door ;  then  he  saw  a  bolt,  and  shot  it,  and 
backed  away,  pistol  swinging  in  his  bleeding  fist. 

Servants  were  screaming  somewhere  in  the  house; 
doors  slammed,  a  man  was  shouting  through  a  tele 
phone  amid  a  confusion  of  voices  that  swelled  continu 
ally  until  the  four  walls  rang  with  the  uproar.  A  little 
later  a  policeman  ran  through  the  basement  into  the 
yard  beyond ;  another  pushed  his  way  to  the  pantry 
door  and  struck  it  heavily  with  his  night-stick,  demand 
ing  admittance. 

For  a  second  he  waited;  then  the  reply  came, 
abrupt,  deafening;  and  he  hurled  himself  at  the  bolted 
door,  and  it  flew  wide  open. 

But  Quest  remained  uninterested.  Nothing  con 
cerned  him  now,  lying  there  on  his  back,  his  bruised 

489 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


young  face  toward  the  ceiling,  and  every  earthly  ques 
tion  answered  for  him  as  long  as  time  shall  last. 

Up-stairs  a  very  old  and  shrunken  man  sat  shiver 
ing  in  bed,  staring  vacantly  at  some  policemen  and 
making  feeble  efforts  to  reach  a  wig  hanging  from  a 
chair  beside  him — a  very  glossy,  expensive  wig,  nicely 
curled  where  it  was  intended  to  fall  above  the  ears. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  quavered,  smirking  at  every 
body  with  crackled,  painted  lips,  "  I  know  nothing 
whatever  about  this  affair.  You  must  ask  my  son  Jack, 
gentlemen — my  son  Jack — te-he ! — oh,  yes,  he  knows ; 
he  can  tell  you  a  thing  or  two,  I  warrant  you!  Yes, 
gentlemen,  he's  like  all  the  Dysarts — fit  for  a  fight  or 
a  frolic ! — te-he ! — he's  all  Dysart,  gentlemen — my  son 
Jack.  But  he  is  a  good  son  to  me — yes,  yes ! — a  good 
son,  a  good  son!  Tell  him  I  said  so — and — good 
night." 

"  Nutty,"  whispered  a  policeman.  "  Come  on  out 
o'  this  boodwar  and  lave  th'  ould  wan  be." 

And  they  left  him  smirking,  smiling,  twitching  his 
faded  lips,  and  making  vague  sounds,  lying  there  asleep 
in  his  dotage. 

And  all  night  long  he  lay  mumbling  his  gums  and 
smiling,  his  sleep  undisturbed  by  the  stir  and  lights  and 
tramp  of  feet  around  him. 

And  all  night  long  in  the  next  room  lay  his  son, 
white  as  marble  and  very  still. 

Toward  morning  he  spoke,  asking  for  his  father. 
But  they  had  decided  to  probe  for  the  bullet,  and  he 
closed  his  eyes  wearily  and  spoke  no  more. 

They  found  it.  What  Dysart  found  as  the  winter 
sun  rose  over  Manhattan  town,  his  Maker  only  knows, 
for  his  sunken  eyes  opened  unterrified  yet  infinitely  sad. 

490 


SINE  DIE 


But  there  was  a  vague  smile  on  his  lips  after  he  lay 
there  dead. 

Nor  did  his  slayer  lie  less  serenely  where  bars  of 
sunlight  moved  behind  the  lowered  curtains,  calm  as  a 
schoolboy  sleeping  peacefully  after  the  eternity  of  a 
summer  day  where  he  had  played  too  long  and  fiercely 
with  a  world  too  rough  for  him. 

And  so,  at  last,  the  indictments  were  dismissed 
against  them  both  and  their  cases  adjourned  sine  die. 


CHAPTER    XXIV 

THE    PROLOGUE    ENDS 

"  YOUR  sister,"  observed  Dr.  Bailey  to  Scott  Sea- 
grave,  "  must  be  constructed  of  India-rubber.  There's 
nothing  whatever  the  matter  with  her  spine  or  with  her 
interior.  The  slight  trace  of  concussion  is  disappear 
ing;  there's  no  injury  to  the  skull;  nothing  serious  to 
apprehend.  Her  body  will  probably  be  black  and  blue 
for  a  week  or  two;  she'll  doubtless  prefer  to  remain  in 
bed  to-morrow  and  next  day.  And  that  is  the  worst 
news  I  have  to  tell  you." 

He  smiled  at  Kathleen  and  Duane,  who  stood  to 
gether,  listening. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  said  Scott,  intensely  relieved. 
"  Duane  got  scared  and  made  me  send  that  telegram. 
I  fell  out  of  a  tree  once,  and  my  sister's  symptoms  were 
exactly  like  mine." 

Kathleen  stole  silently  from  the  room ;  Duane 
passed  his  arm  through  the  doctor's  and  walked  with 
him  to  the  big,  double  sleigh  which  was  waiting.  Scott 
followed  with  Dr.  Goss. 

"About  this  other  matter,"  said  Dr.  Bailey;  "I 
can't  make  it  out,  Duane.  I  saw  Jack  Dysart  two  days 
ago.  He  was  very  nervous,  but  physically  sound.  I 
can't  believe  it  was  suicide." 

He  unfolded  the  telegram  which  had  come  that 
morning  directed  to  Duane. 

492 


THE   PROLOGUE   ENDS 

"  Mrs.  Jack  Dysart's  husband  died  this  morning. 
Am  trying  to  communicate  with  her.  Wire  if  you  know 
her  whereabouts." 

It  was  signed  with  old  Mr.  Dysart's  name,  but  Dr. 
Bailey  knew  he  could  never  have  written  the  telegram 
or  even  have  comprehended  it. 

The  men  stood  grouped  in  the  snow  near  the  sleigh, 
waiting;  and  presently  Rosalie  came  out  on  the  terrace 
with  Kathleen  and  Delancy  Grandcourt.  Her  colour 
was  very  bad  and  there  were  heavy  circles  under  her 
eyes,  but  she  epoke  with  perfect  self-possession,  made 
her  adieux  quietly,  kissed  Kathleen  twice,  and  suffered 
Grandcourt  to  help  her  into  the  sleigh. 

Then  Grandcourt  got  in  beside  her,  the  two  doctors 
swung  aboard  in  front,  bells  jingled,  and  they  whirled 
away  over  the  snow. 

Kathleen,  with  Scott  and  Duane  on  either  side  of 
her,  walked  back  to  the  house. 

"  Well,"  said  Scott,  his  voice  betraying  nervous  re 
action,  "  we'll  resume  life  where  we  left  off  when  Ger- 
aldine  did.  Don't  tell  her  anything  about  Dysart  yet. 
Suppose  we  go  and  cheer  her  up ! " 

Geraldine  lay  on  the  pillows,  rather  pallid  under  the 
dark  masses  of  hair  clustering  around  and  framing  her 
face.  She  unclosed  her  eyes  when  Kathleen  opened  the 
door  for  a  preliminary  survey,  and  the  others  filed  sol 
emnly  in. 

"  Hello,"  she  said  faintly,  and  smiled  at  Duane. 

"  How  goes  it,  Sis  ?  "  asked  her  brother  affection 
ately,  shouldering  Duane  aside. 

"  A  little  sleepy,  but  all  right.  Why  on  earth 
did  you  send  for  Dr.  Bailey?  It  was  horribly  ex 


pensive." 


493 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  Duane  did,"  said  her  brother  briefly.  "  He  was 
scared  blue." 

Her  eyes  rested  on  her  lover,  indulgent,  dreamily 
humorous. 

"  Such  expensive  habits,"  she  murmured,  "  when 
everybody  is  economising.  Kathleen,  dear,  he  needs 
schooling.  You  and  Mr.  Tappan  ought  to  take  him  in 
hand  and  cultiwate  him  good  and  hard ! " 

Scott,  who  had  been  wandering  around  his  sister's 
room  with  innate  masculine  curiosity  concerning  the 
mysteries  of  intimate  femininity,  came  upon  a  sketch 
of  Duane's — the  colour  not  entirely  dry  yet. 

"  It's  Sis ! "  he  exclaimed  in  unfeigned  approval. 
"  Lord,  but  you've  made  her  a  good-looker,  Duane. 
Does  she  really  appear  like  that  to  you?  " 

"  And  then  some,"  said  Duane.  "  Keep  your  fin 
gers  off  it." 

Scott  admired  in  silence  for  a  while,  then :  "  You 
certainly  are  a  shark  at  it,  Duane.  .  .  .  You've  struck 
your  gait  all  right.  ...  I  wish  I  had.  .  .  .  This 
Rose-beetle  business  doesn't  promise  very  well." 

"  You  write  most  interestingly  about  it,"  said  Kath 
leen  warmly. 

"  Yes,  I  can  write.  ...  I  believe  journalism  would 
suit  me." 

"The  funny  column?"  suggested  Geraldine. 

"  Yes,  or  the  birth,  marriage,  and  death  column.  I 
could  head  it,  *  Hatched,  Matched,  and  Snatched  ' " 

"  That  is  perfectly  horrid,  Scott,"  protested  his  sis 
ter  ;  "  why  do  you  let  him  say  such  rowdy  things,  Kath 
leen?" 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  sighed  Kathleen ;  "  I  haven't  the 
slightest  influence  with  him.  Look  at  him  now !  " — as 
he  laughingly  passed  his  arm  around  her  and  made  her 

494 


THE   PROLOGUE   ENDS 

two-step  around  the  room,  protesting,  rosy,  deliciously 
helpless  in  the  arms  of  this  tall  young  fellow  who  held 
her  inflexibly  but  with  a  tenderness  surprising. 

Duane  smiled  and  seated  himself  on  the  edge  of 
the  bed. 

"  You  plucky  little  thing,"  he  said,  "  were  you  per 
fectly  mad  to  try  to  block  that  boar  in  the  scrub  ?  You 
won't  ever  try  such  a  thing  again,  will  you,  dear  ?  " 

"  I  was  so  excited,  Duane ;  I  never  thought  there 
was  any  danger " 

"  You  didn't  think  whether  there  was  or  not.  You 
didn't  care." 

She  laughed,  wincing  under  his  accusing  gaze. 

"  You  must  care,  dear." 

"  I  do,"  she  said,  serious  when  he  became  so  grave. 
"  Tell  me  again  exactly  what  happened." 

He  said :  "  I  don't  think  the  brute  saw  you ;  he  was 
hard  hit  and  was  going  blind,  and  he  side-swiped  you 
and  sent  you  flying  into  the  air  among  those  icy 
rocks."  He  drew  a  long  breath,  managed  to  smile  in 
response  to  her  light  touch  on  his  hand.  "  And  that's 
how  it  was,  dear.  He  crashed  headlong  into  a  tree; 
your  last  shot  did  it.  But  Miller  and  I  thought  he'd 
got  you.  We  carried  you  in " 

"  You  did  ?  "  she  whispered. 

"  Yes.  I  never  was  so  thoroughly  scared  in  all  my 
life." 

"  You  poor  boy.  Are  the  rifles  safe?  And  did 
Miller  save  the  head?  " 

"  He  did,"  said  Duane  grimly,  "  and  your  precious 
rifles  are  intact." 

"  Lean  down,  close,"  she  said ;  "  closer.  There's 
more  than  the  rifles  intact,  dear." 

"  Not  your  poor  bruised  body  !  " 
495 


THE   DANGER   MARK 


"  My  self-respect,"  she  whispered,  the  pink  colour 
stealing  into  her  cheeks.  "  I've  won  it  back.  Do  you 
understand?  I've  gone  after  my  other  self  and  got  her 
back.  I'm  mistress  of  myself,  Duane;  I'm  in  full  con 
trol,  first  in  command.  Do  you  know  what  that 
means  ?  " 

"Does  it  mean — me?" 

"  Yes." 

"When?" 

"  When  you  will." 

He  leaned  above  her,  looking  down  into  her  eyes. 
Their  fearless  sweetness  set  him  trembling. 

On  the  floor  below  Kathleen,  at  the  piano,  was  play 
ing  the  Menuet  d'Exaudet.  When  she  ended,  Scott, 
cheerily  busy  with  his  infant  Rose-beetles,  went  about 
his  affairs  whistling  the  air. 

"Our  betrothal  dance;  do  you  remember?"  mur 
mured  Geraldine.  "  Do  you  love  me,  Duane?  Tell  me 
so ;  I  need  it." 

"  I  love  you,"  he  said. 

She  lay  looking  at  him  a  moment,  her  head  cradled 
in  her  dark  hair.  Then,  moving  slowly,  and  smiling 
at  the  pain  it  gave  her,  she  put  both  bare  arms  around 
his  neck,  and  lifted  her  lips  to  his. 

It  was  the  end  of  the  prologue ;  the  curtain  trembled 
on  the  rise ;  the  story  of  Fate  was  beginning.  But  they 
had  no  eyes  except  for  each  other,  paid  no  heed  save  to 
each  other. 

And,  unobserved  by  them,  the  vast  curtain  rose  in 
silence,  beginning  the  strange  drama  which  neither  time 
nor  death,  perhaps,  has  power  to  end. 

THE  END  (i> 


OTHER  BOOKS  BY 

ROBERT  W.  CHAMBERS 

It  was  Mr.  Chambers  himself  who  wrote  of  the  ca 
prices  of  the  Mystic  Three — Fate,  Chance,  and  Destiny 
— and  how  it  frequently  happened  that  a  young  man 
"  tripped  over  the  maliciously  extended  foot  of  Fate 
and  fell  plump  into  the  open  arms  of  Destiny."  Per 
haps  it  was  due  to  one  of  the  pranks  of  the  mystic  sis 
ters  that  Mr.  Chambers  himself  should  lay  down  his 
brush  and  palette  and  take  up  the  pen.  Mr.  Chambers 
studied  art  in  Paris  for  seven  years.  At  twenty-four 
his  paintings  were  accepted  at  the  Salon;  at  twenty- 
eight  he  had  returned  to  New  York  and  was  busy  as 
an  illustrator  for  Life,  Truth,  and  other  periodicals. 
But  already  the  desire  to  write  was  coursing  through 
him.  The  Latin  Quarter  of  Paris,  where  he  had  studied 
so  long,  seemed  to  haunt  him ;  he  wanted  to  tell  its  story. 
So  he  did  write  the  story  and,  in  1893,  published  it 
under  the  title  of  "  In  the  Quarter."  The  same  year  he 
published  another  book,  "  The  King  in  Yellow,"  a 
grewsome  tale  but  remarkably  successful.  The  easel 
was  pushed  aside ;  the  painter  had  become  writer. 

Mr.  Chambers  is  a  born  optimist.  The  labor  of 
writing  is  a  natural  enjoyment  to  him.  In  reading  any 
thing  he  has  written  one  is  at  once  impressed  with  the 
ease  with  which  it  moves  along.  There  is  no  straining 
after  effects,  no  affectations,  no  hysteria ;  but  always 
there  is  a  personality,  an  individuality  that  appeals  to 


OTHER   BOOKS   BY   ROBERT   W.    CHAMBERS 

the  best  side  of  the  reader's  nature  and  somehow  builds 
up  a  personal  relation  between  him  and  the  author. 
Perhaps  it  is  this  consummate  skill,  this  remarkable 
ability  to  win  the  reader  that  has  enabled  Mr.  Chambers 
to  increase  his  audience  year  after  year,  until  it  now 
numbers  millions;  and  it  is  only  just  that  critics  should, 
as  they  frequently  do,  proclaim  him  "  the  most  popular 
writer  in  the  country." 

SPECIAL  MESSENGER 

is  the  title  of  Mr.  Chambers's  novel  just  preceding  this 
present  one.  It  is  the  romance  of  a  young  woman  spy 
and  scout  in  the  Civil  War.  As  a  special  messenger  in 
the  Union  service,  she  is  led  into  a  maze  of  critical  situa 
tions,  but  her  coolness  and  bravery  and  winsome  person 
ality  always  carry  her  on  to  victory.  The  story  is 
crowded  with  dramatic  incident,  the  roar  of  battle,  the 
grim  realities  of  war;  and,  at  times,  in  sharp  contrast, 
comes  the  tenderest  of  romance.  It  is  written  with  an 
understanding  and  sympathy  for  the  viewpoint  of  the 
partisans  on  both  sides  of  the  conflict. 

Mr.  Chambers's  third  novel  of  society  life  is 

THE  FIRING  LINE 

Its  scenes  are  laid  principally  at  Palm  Beach,  and  no 
more  distinct  yet  delicately  tinted  picture  of  an  Ameri 
can  fashionable  resort,  in  the  full  blossom  of  its  brief, 
recurrent  glory,  has  ever  been  drawn.  In  this  book, 
Mr.  Chambers's  purpose  is  to  show  that  the  salvation  of 
society  lies  in  the  constant  injection  of  new  blood  into 
its  veins.  His  heroine,  the  captivating  Shiela  Card- 


OTHER   BOOKS    BY   ROBERT   W.    CHAMBERS 

ross,  of  unknown  parentage,  yet  reared  in  luxury,  sud 
denly  finds  herself  on  life's  firing  line,  battling  with  one 
of  the  most  portentous  problems  a  young  girl  ever  had 
to  face.  Only  a  master  writer  could  handle  her  story ; 
Mr.  Chambers  does  it  most  successfully. 

THE  YOVNGEB  SET 

is  the  second  of  Mr.  Chambers's  society  novels.  It  takes 
the  reader  into  the  swirling  society  life  of  fashionable 
New  York,  there  to  wrestle  with  that  ever-increasing 
evil,  the  divorce  question.  As  a  student  of  life,  Mr. 
Chambers  is  thorough ;  he  knows  society ;  his  pictures 
are  so  accurate  that  he  enables  the  reader  to  imbibe  the 
same  atmosphere  as  if  he  had  been  born  and  brought  up 
in  it.  Moreover,  no  matter  how  intricate  the  plot  may 
be  or  how  great  the  lesson  to  be  taught,  the  romance  in 
the  story  is  always  foremost.  For  "  The  Younger  Set," 
Mr.  Chambers  has  provided  a  hero  with  a  rigid  code  of 
honor  and  the  grit  to  stick  to  it,  even  though  it  be  un 
fashionable  and  out  of  date.  He  is  a  man  whom  every 
one  would  seek  to  emulate. 

The  earliest  of  Mr.  Chambers's  society  novels  is 

g   THE  FIGHTING  CHANCE 

It  is  the  story  of  a  young  man  who  has  inherited 
with  his  wealth  a  craving  for  liquor,  and  a  girl  who  has 
inherited  a  certain  rebelliousness  and  a  tendency  toward 
dangerous  caprice.  The  two,  meeting  on  the  brink  of 
ruin,  fight  out  their  battles — two  weaknesses  joined 
with  love  to  make  a  strength. 

It  is  sufficient  to  say  of  this  novel  that  more  than 


OTHER   BOOKS   BY   ROBERT   W.    CHAMBERS 

three  million  people  have  read  it.     It  has  taken  a  per 
manent  place  among  the  best  fiction  of  the  period. 


THE  BECKONING 

is  a  novel  of  the  Revolutionary  War.  It  is  the  fourth, 
chronologically,  of  a  series  of  which  "  Cardigan  "  and 
"  The  Maid-at-Arms  "  were  the  first  two.  The  third 
has  not  yet  been  written.  These  novels  of  New  York 
in  the  Revolutionary  days  are  another  striking  exam 
ple  of  the  enthusiasm  which  Mr.  Chambers  puts  into  his 
work.  To  write  an  accurate  and  successful  historical 
novel,  one  must  be  a  historian  as  well  as  a  romancer. 
Mr.  Chambers  is  an  authority  on  New  York  State  his 
tory  during  the  Colonial  period.  And,  if  the  hours 
spent  in  poring  over  old  maps  and  reading  up  old 
records  and  journals  do  not  show,  the  result  is  always 
apparent.  The  facts  are  not  obtrusive,  but  they  are 
there,  interwoven  in  the  gauzy  woof  of  the  artist's  im 
agination.  That  is  why  these  romances  carry  convic 
tion  always,  why  we  breathe  the  very  air  of  the  period 
as  we  read  them. 

Mr.  Chambers  has  been  a  prolific  writer.  Up  to 
the  present  he  has  given  us  in  all  thirty-four  books, 
including  a  small  volume  of  verse  no  longer  in  print. 
In  addition  to  those  already  mentioned,  his  more  recent 
books  include 

IOLE 

SOME  LADIES  IN  HASTE 

THE  TREE  OF  HEAVEN 

THE  TRACER  OF  LOST  PERSONS 


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